Final Fantasy Chronicles Book 1:The Light Warriors
by kiyoshi1
Summary: The Elder has myteriously left Mysidia, Palom & Porom are on the chase, and the rest of the world is crumbling within the grasp of one who wants his world back--Chaos. Multiple storylines abound plus many new characters. The end of book 1 is near.
1. Introduction

Final Fantasy, and all Final Fantasy

characters are trademarks of

Squaresoft Ltd. 

All other characters are mine.****

**FINAL FANTASY CHRONICLES:**

**THE LIGHT WARRIORS**

By: kiyoshi

_Introduction_

_            In a vast land filled with fantastic creatures and majestic waters, a bloody battle raged across the sodden plains, and through the endless skies.  An evil empire arose to challenge the might and the heart of all that was good.  Hundreds of people, young and old, died as a malicious plague spread across the planet, from the little town of Agart, to the bustling kingdom of Fabul—nothing was left unmolested.  _

_Yet from the ashes, one man soared to take his place as the leader of a group of rebels.  Together, they freed every town, discovered new societies, and destroyed a hideous, other-wordly creature known as Zeromus--a foul beast who thrived on fears and evil ambitions, who wanted the world as his own._

_            That historical battle is over, and a new one is about to begin.  Seventeen years later, after the world has lived with peace and prosperity, a new threat arises with but one goal--to bring an old threat back from the dead.  And once more Cecil Harvey, the courageous man from the Kingdom of Baron, the one to strike the black heart of Zeromus, must hold the mantle of leadership once more, and call upon those who had helped him before.  _

_With his wife Rosa alongside of him, Cecil will attempt to free his world from chaos and tyranny; to free this land of beauty and wonder, of metal and magic, from those who would desecrate it's fair meadows._

_            This is where heroes are born, where adventures are made, and where historians take their quills to add new chapters to the Final Fantasy Chronicles.___

  


**_Awakening_**

Several years, in past regards,

a mighty creature sought

to end a peace and harmony

within our kindly hearts.

But there was one who fought the day

and triumphed over all.

With his band, upon this land,

he killed the creature's call.

Now tranquility has laid its hand,

and time has slipped away.

Never did the hero know

he'd fight another day.

Another evil raises hard the

battle gauntlet high,

to break the white of lofty clouds

that float within the sky.

Chaos it shall rain on all,

and imps will surly dance,

for this time, it would seem that good

stands little of a chance.

_This poem is an excerpt taken from a book called, "The Second Generation" which is authored by select members of the Holy Council of Mysidia.  Written a few days after the conclusion of the second great war of their generation, it has become the best selling book ever (over 500 copies), and is now used in all schools, libraries, and universities around the world as a historical reference._


	2. Prologue

**Prologue: The Mission**

            "Hurry up, will you!"

            "Don't rush me!"

            "You need to grow longer legs."

            "Oh hush!"

            As midday passes, these two travelers walk tirelessly through the Mysidian Woods.  They've been out since the early rising of the sun.  They're tired, they're hungry, and they would like nothing more than to be at home.  But this outing is no ordinary one.  As they enter a clearing in the woods, they stop to take a breather.

            "Palom, why do you think the Elder wanted it?"  The young woman points at the brown, leather knapsack on her companion's shoulders.

            "I don't know.  It must be really important though," Palom says as he removes his knapsack, lays it on the ground, and opens it.  "You know Porom, it's not like the Elder to just send us out on a mission without giving us the full details."  He reaches in and removes a fairly large, gray rock from the knapsack.  The rock has no edges and is very smooth all around.

            "It must be something special if the Elder wants it that badly," Porom stretches out her legs and leans back on her arms, the sleeves of her green tunic brushing against the blades of grass.  "I mean it did come from Mount Ordeals, and that place holds some strong magical properties.  I wouldn't be surprised if this field trip was part of our training."

            "Maybe, but we really had no trouble at all getting it," Palom says as he tosses the rock in the air a couple of times.  "Reading some of the Elder's spell books is harder than that.  Besides, ever since the war ended, the monsters have been far and few between."  He turns the rock over many times to examine it, but finds nothing unusual.

            Seventeen years ago, during the great battle with Zeromus, Palom and Porom met a man--a dark knight.  At the Elder's command they accompanied the knight on his mission, and along the way they met the most powerful magician known throughout the land.  Tellah was the magician's name, and with his help, Palom, Porom, and the dark knight fought their way up the dangerous Mount Ordeals.  

            Later, a tragic turn of fate would end the life of Tellah, but without his help, history might have been different--for on that mountaintop, a great change took place; a change that may have turned the odds in the favor of good.  It was here where a young and confused dark knight was transformed into a heroic paladin, the true leader who helped save the world from destruction.

            That was seventeen years ago.  Palom and Porom were only eight years old at the time.  Now they're all grown up and once again they find themselves on another mission.  The course of this one is unclear though, and that has them both worried.

            "Well, guess we better go the last two miles so we can get back home," Palom puts the rock back in his knapsack and closes it.  With a deep sigh he picks up the knapsack and stands up.  "Besides I want to be well rested for my date tonight."  
            "Oh that's right.  You have another date with Lyrca.  Doesn't she know she's too good for you?" Porom stands up and brushes off some grass from her clothing.  "I really don't know what she sees in you anyway.  You're such a nuisance."

            "Thanks for the vote of confidence sis," Palom says blandly.

            Suddenly Porom turns around.

            "Did you hear that?"

            "Yeah.  Sounded like someone's voice to me," Palom lays his hand on the hilt of his short sword.  Porom reaches for the small, metal staff strapped to her back.  "What do you think?"

            Twins through and through, Palom and Porom can usually sense what the other one is thinking, what the other one wants to do.  Years of being at each others side has given them a kind of telepathic ability which has come in very handy during battles.

            Porom stays silent as she eyes the brush surrounding them.  Aside from the swaying of a few tree branches, nothing moves, and no sounds are heard.

            "Come on Porom, lets get out of here," Palom releases his grip from his sword.  "It was probably the wind or something."

            Porom takes one last look around, then eases her hold on her staff and relaxes a little.  "Ok, let's go."

            "You know, I've been thinking sis, when are you going to get a boyfriend?"

            "Oh hush!  And will you stop walking so fast?"

            "I told you, you need to grow longer legs," Palom grins and quickens the pace with Porom running after him.

            As the voices of the twins start to fade, two tiny figures reveal themselves to the light of the sun.  As one brushes off the leaves from the bushes, the other hits him sharply on the head.

            "Ow! What was that for?"

            "I said that you were talking too loud!  You almost gave away our position!" 

            "Well excuse me!" the other says as he rubs his head.

            "What would the captain think of your behavior? You have no idea how important this is," The little man goes over a piece of paper he's holding in his stubby fingers.  "I thought coming upon those two would be of great importance, but they didn't say much that was worth writing down. Just some talk about a dumb rock."

            "_That dumb rock is important information my little imp._"

            A large shadow is suddenly cast over the two imps, and as they slowly turn toward it's owner, they already know whom it belongs to.

            "Master Drakhen," whisper the imps.

            Hundreds of years ago, dragons of all kinds, of all species, were plentiful, filling the skies with bright colors and displays.  As the years passed, dragons were becoming endangered.  They were being hunted and killed for their skin, for their blood, and for whatever reason one could think of.  Many had thought a dragon was more useful dead than alive.  Dragons had almost become extinct, but just before the war with Zeromus, an uprising of dragons had begun.  No one knows why, but it's been theorized that a nest no one had known about was created somewhere to the west, near the town of Toroia.

            Recently, dragon sightings have increased.  Though they haven't attacked any towns or people, citizens have been kept on strict guard because dragons are very unpredictable.  Not really ones to care about the lives of other creatures, dragons take sides at their leisure, when it suits them best.  Few dragons are friendly, most are just rude, but all of them are dangerous.

            That includes this one--Drakhen.  If there were ever a dragon to be put on the extinction list, it would be him.  No one has ever seen a gold dragon for many years, for they were the most menacing and most destructive, and because of that, they were the first to be hunted.

            "_This information will bode well with the Lord.  You have done an excellent job my pudgy little friends._"  With not so much as a glance at them, Drakhen walks towards the middle of the clearing, where Palom and Porom took their rest.  With each of Drakhen's steps, the imps can feel the vibrations in the ground signifying the golden wonder's mass.  With a wingspan of over fifty feet, he could easily cast a shadow over the clearing he's now standing in.

            As he bends his long neck to the ground, Drakhen starts sniffing the area; getting the scent of the two young travellers for future remembrance.  _A rock from Mount Ordeals_, he thinks to himself.  _The Elder of Mysidia is conjuring up something.  Is it possible that he knows?  I wouldn't doubt that the old fool does._  Drakhen turns towards the imps, who have noticeably lengthened their distance from him.  At this, he gives a wide grin, knowing that his very presence scares even the bravest of souls.

            "_Return to the communion at once, and tell the Lord that I shall return shortly. I have some business to attend to."_  And without an answer to his command, Drakhen opens his great, gold wings, brushing the trees on both sides.  With a short bend and a large leap, he soars into the sky, and within seconds the enormous creature is just a dot amongst the clouds.

            As ordered, the two imps make their way back to their home, still shaken from their meeting with Master Drakhen, the golden dragon.


	3. Baron

**Chapter 1:  Baron**

            Mid-morning has come upon the town of Baron, and right now Palom and Porom are making their way back from their solitary trip up Mount Ordeals to the east.  But here, two other youngsters are on a mission themselves.  On the outskirts of Baron's town, near the Chocobo Forest, a young girl and boy are gathering samori mushrooms from the fields.

            "This is getting boring Sylia.  I'd rather be sleeping than doing this."  The young lad lies back on the grass and shuts his eyes.

            "Jero, you're the one who wanted mushroom stew for dinner tonight," says the girl. "And mom said 'if you want it, you have to pick the mushrooms yourself.'  You agreed, and you're here, so start picking."

            Jero yawns and turns on his side, making believe he doesn't hear her.  He closes his eyes and starts to drift into slumber.  Catching this, Sylia throws a handful of mushrooms at her unsuspecting brother.  

"You're so lazy Jero!  You'll never be Captain of the Guards if you keep sleeping on the job."

            Jero yawns again.

            When he was only ten years old, Jero already knew what he wanted to be.  Watching the different squads of Baron's military force do their drills inspired him.  He wanted to be a warrior, a fighter more than anything else, protecting the city, the world from evil.  But no one inspired him more than his father.  His father was a great military leader, a fine warrior, and--

            "Hey Jero, do you know where Puvol went?"

            "Nope."  Jero turns over on his stomach, his arms acting as a pillow under his head, his blonde hair lightly blowing in the wind.

            "I'm going to go look for him."  Sylia says without so much as a glance at her younger brother.

            Sylia enters the Chocobo Forest, irritated by Jero's laziness and lack of hard work.  He had dreams and goals; Jero told her that all the time, but he never showed ambition.  It's something that worries Sylia every so often.

            Now she was looking for the other one--Puvol.  _The little rascal's probably playing with the baby chocobos_, she thinks to herself.

            She stares into a clearing to her left, her dark blue eyes are wide in her inspection.  Two adult chocobos are searching the area for food, cooing and clawing.  These seven-foot tall birds, used by many to travel large distances, are very peaceful creatures.  Unlike most other birds, chocobos lack the ability to fly because of their enormous weight and small wings.  But they have very strong legs that they use to travel to other nesting areas.  They've also been used in the aid of combat when soldiers needed a ride to the battlefield, but that was a long time ago.

            Nowadays people use the airships for traveling; a technology that was discovered a few years before the Zeromus war.  There weren't many of them then, but there are hundreds of them now, all across the globe, patrolling vast areas of land.

            Sylia enters the clearing and pets the two chocobos who greet her warmly with friendly nudges against her blue tunic.  _Maybe I'll ride one_, she thinks. Then she hears a voice off in the brush ahead.  "Puvul, is that you?"

The movement in the brush increases as small whispers can be heard from within.

"Puvul if you don't come out here this instant--" 

            Suddenly a bright streak splits the air, as a bolt of lightning strikes a rock not more than five feet from Sylia.  With a loud shriek she stumbles backwards, loses her balance, and falls on her back.  Her golden hair falls loosely across her face.

            A little boy emerges from the brush, giggling.

"Scared you good huh Syl?"

            Enraged, Sylia gets up and walks straight toward her little brother. 

"Puvul what the hell do you think you're doing?  You could've killed me!"  Sylia grabs at Puvol's leather tunic and pulls at it threateningly.  "You little runt, when mom finds out about this she'll ground you for eternity!"

            "Aw, come on Syl, it wouldn't have killed you. I'm not strong enough for that."  Puvol gives his sister a big smile and removes her hand from his black tunic.  Sylia was always getting angry with him, and if not her, then Jero was.  Puvul was never given the same respect from his older siblings as they had for each other.  That's usually the case when you're the third child.  After dusting off his clothes and brushing back his brownish hair, he starts towards the two chocobos with Sylia in tow.

            "Puvul get back here!  What do you think you're doing wandering off by yourself? You could have gotten lost, or hurt, or--"

            "Oh give me a break," Puvol cuts in. "I know this place like the back of my hand. Besides, I'm ten years old already. Stop treating me like a kid."

            "But you are a kid."

            "No I'm not!"  Puvul stomps off toward the edge of the clearing, toward the field where Jero is taking his nap.

            Sylia sighs.  _What did I do to deserve a brother like him_, she thinks to herself.  And so with a heavy sigh, she walks out of the Chocobo Forest, leaving the two chocobos alone to continue foraging for food.

            "Hi mom."

            "Hello dear. What have you been doing in the forest Sylia?" the pale woman asks.

            "Chasing a rat."  She says as she slaps Puvul's head with her palm, to which Puvul winces.

            "Have you been causing trouble again Puvul?"  His mother eyes him with suspicion.

            "Not really."  Puvol gives her an innocent, sparkling smile.

            Sylia decides not to report her recent incident with Puvul in order to spare him another lecture.  He never paid attention to them anyway. He was always getting distracted.  Little kids are hard to keep occupied, and this one was no different.  

            Opposed to what most people would think, Sylia really loved her brother, and whenever she scolded him it was because she didn't want him to get hurt.  In a round about way that's how most siblings act, even parents.  And Sylia just wants to make sure Puvul grows up with a strong sense of dignity and caring.

            Their mother eyes the mushrooms strewn about the grass.

"So how's the mushroom picking going?"

            "Why don't you ask Jero," Sylia points downward toward her brother.  Jero's fallen fast asleep, snoring.  "He wouldn't last two seconds in the battlefield."

            "Oh don't worry about you're brother.  He'll come around one day."  Their mother smiles a beautiful smile.

            '_Beautiful as the Rose of Shalom,_' one was heard saying.  Her golden hair so neatly dressed everyday, her eyes so soft and warm, and her body in wonderful shape. It's no wonder she gets looks from everyone in town.  Her white gown accentuating her form, she looks to be twenty-five instead of her forty years of age.  But in her eyes she has to look good.  Not to show up all the other women, or to steal glances from the likes of men, but because she's--

            "Queen Rosa," One of the castle sentries rides towards the woman and her children on a white stallion, Baron's royal symbol graces the horse's soft hide.  "Your Highness, I've been sent to inform you that lunch is ready, and the King anxiously awaits your return along with the children."

            "Thank you lieutenant.  We'll be there shortly."  Rosa replies.

            And with that, Sylia slaps Jero awake and the four of them make their way to the castle.

            "And so my good chef, what do you have prepared for us today?" asks Cecil.

            "Well my liege, I have some new recipes I'm working on.  A special salad and soup combination that I learned from a friend in Fabul will be your appetizer, and that will be followed by your main course, which consists of raven's eggs over broiled steaks.  And if you care for some dessert, I have a new flavor of cotton cream that I'm working on."  

            His smile is one of achievement.  As the castle's head chef, Jerriko has made a living out of cooking.  His fine taste in exotic foods and his preparation and decoration of meals has made him the most popular chef around.  '_Just kept on practicing_,' was his reason for his expertise.

            Fourteen years ago, a twenty-year old Jerriko was washing dishes in the village of Shoal, to the far east of the Mysidian Continent.  Dreaming of one day becoming a master chef like his father, he then travelled to the town of Silvera where he was trained in the art of cooking.  It was there that he met a tanned man who had come from the town of Fabul--a very important man from what he was told.  This man was to be the first customer to taste Jerriko's cooking, and to Jerriko's surprise and to the surprise of his instructor, the tanned, bald man loved it.  So much in fact that he introduced Jerriko to the King of Baron, Cecil Harvey.

            When he first met King Cecil, Jerriko felt like fainting.  He couldn't believe that he was meeting the legendary warrior who ended the Great War three years ago, and never in his life had Jerriko dreamed of even cooking for him.

            But now, over ten years later, Jerriko is in charge of everything that goes on in the Baron Castle's kitchen.  It's everything that he ever wanted; to be able to do the things he enjoys, and better yet, for probably the most highly respected people in the world.

            Reminiscing over this from time to time reminds Jerriko of his heritage, and how fortunate he is to be in this position.

            "Sounds like a very excellent meal Jerriko, and from the aroma in the air it smells delicious. I can't wait to eat."  Cecil rubs his stomach in anticipation.

            "Thank you my liege. It should be ready soon."

            Seeing King Cecil smile at him always makes Jerriko proud of what he has done. It's what keeps him going, and with that, he turns towards the kitchen to finish his preparations.

            "Nanny, are Rosa and the children back yet?"  Cecil speaks to a small, slightly stout old woman who's preparing the dining table.   

            "Not yet Your Highness," she says as she lays down the utensils. "They should be back very shortly.  Would you like me to go check on them for you?"  

            "No that's quite alright Nanny.  Rosa can take care of herself," Cecil looks out one of the dining room windows overlooking the meadows to the west. "I'm sure the children can too." 

            There are many things in Cecil's life that he is proud of.  First of all his marriage to Rosa, his long time love, was conceived a few months after the war.  Then his election to the throne of Baron quickly followed suit.  After that, Cecil established a military academy to train soldiers in the art of combat, while Rosa set up her school of white magic.  In addition to his academy, Cecil has also resurrected the Red Wings--an airship strike force used during the war.  Aided by Baron's chief engineer Cid Pollendina, the Red Wings are over eighty strong, making Baron a veritable powerhouse the world over.

            _So many things to be proud for_, Cecil thinks to himself.

            Yet nothing made him prouder than his three children.  Sylia, the oldest of the three at the age of sixteen, is a very bright and mature young lady.  Her intellect and will to succeed has helped her on the road of magic.  With the aid of her mother acting as a personal trainer, Sylia's skills have developed quickly.  "She will be an expert white magician in no time," Rosa once said.

            Cecil's fourteen-year old son, Jero, pleases him very much.  Though he has no interest in magic, Jero is training to become a soldier in the Royal Army.  Cecil has gotten the pleasure of teaching his son battle tactics and fighting essentials, to which Jero is always eager to listen.  From time to time, Jero and his father would engage in one on one combat with wooden swords.  Of course Cecil would always win, but he could see the steady improvement in Jero's abilities.  _Jero will definitely become a fine warrior,_ Cecil thinks to himself.

            The youngest of the three, Puvol, is the rowdy one who's always causing trouble.  Cecil never realized how difficult a ten year old could be until now.  Puvol was still a good kid though, always wanting to help out with errands and shopping.  His ability to conjure up black magic came as a surprise to both Cecil and Rosa, as they were both white magic users.  Neither of them could figure it out, though as Puvol grows older, his magic skills would be of great use if the kingdom ever needed it.  

Yet, because there were no expert black magic users in the kingdom of Baron, Cecil had to look elsewhere for a teacher.  He finally found one in the kingdom of Eblana--an old friend who had helped Cecil in the war seventeen years ago.  At least three days a week, she would come by to teach Puvol in the ways of black magic, and today was one of those days.

            "Has it been that long?" Cecil mumbles as these thoughts cross his mind.  "Seventeen years.  Makes me feel pretty old."  Cecil gives a faint laugh as he sits in his old oak chair.  His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a loud voice coming from the hallway leading to the dining room.

            "Daddy, daddy, is lunch ready yet?"  Puvol comes rushing in to take his seat next to his father.

            "It will be ready shortly Puvol," Cecil smiles brightly at his youngest son.  "Did you wash up before you came in?"

            "Uh-huh, uh-huh.  I'm starving." Puvol grabs his fork and waits impatiently for his food.

            "So, what have you all been doing this morning?" Cecil asks as the servants lay down the meals.

            "Nothing much," says Jero as he takes a seat at the table. "Just picking mushrooms."

            "You mean I was picking mushrooms while you were sleeping on them." Sylia remarks sharply.

            "Same thing."  Jero replies as he fills his plate with Jerriko's special salad.

            Cecil smiles and then looks towards Puvol.

"And what about you Puvol?  Were you collecting mushrooms as well?"

            "Nah, I was just playing some games in the Chocobo Forest."

            "Games?  What kind of games?"  Cecil's curiosity piqued as to what games Puvol could play with himself.

            Careful to avoid talking about his little lightning show with Sylia, Puvol shoves a heap full of salad into his mouth and says, "Uh...fun games.  With the chocobos."

            "Puvol, what have I told you about talking with your mouth full?" Rosa glares at her youngest son.

            Puvol swallows his mouthful of salad.

"Sorry mom," he says, as he gets ready to munch down on another heaping mound of greens.  "By the way, when is Aunty coming to give me more lessons?  She's coming today, right?"

            "Yes she is," Rosa says.  "She should be arriving shortly, so you'd better hurry and finish your meal."

            "Your Highness," One of the royal servants enters the dining room.  "I just thought you'd like to know that the Captain of the Guards has just arrived from his town to town inspection and surveillance mission."

            "Oh good.  Would you bring him in here please?"  Cecil gestures to the food on the table. "He can join us in our meal here."

**Interlude**

"You've done very well my children," The Elder palms the rock given to him by the young twins. "You had no trouble getting it?"

            "Nah, it was easier than ripping the tail off of a spiked ingleworm."  Palom slumps down into one of the Elder's velvet-cushioned chairs.

            "Don't be so over-confident Palom," Porom lashes out, her dark brown eyes squinting threateningly at her brother.  "One of these days you're going to be in over your head, and I might not be there to watch your back!"  She pokes at Palom's chest through his red tunic with a rigid finger.

            "Calm down sis, I just meant we didn't have any trouble getting the stone.  You don't have to get your berries in a bunch over it."  Palom clasps his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair.

            The Elder smiles faintly, knowing all too well that the arguing will never stop.  He then sits down at his large, wooden desk and begins examining the rock.

            "Elder?"  Porom asks with much worry in her voice.

Sensing this, the Elder turns towards his young pupils with a somber smile upon his face. 

"I know what you're going to ask, and all I can tell you is that this rock is of much importance."

            "Can't you tell us what you plan to do with it, or what it's for?"  Palom asks.

            The Elder turns back towards his desk and to the rock sitting on it.

"For now it is of little use to me.  But in time, it will prove to be a great asset," The Elder turns an eye to Palom. "Now I believe you need to prepare yourself for your date tonight?"

            "Oh, that's right, I almost forgot!"  Palom leaps from the chair and is out the door in a blinding flash, the heavy sounds of his footsteps trailing off into the hallway.

            "I know you're worried Porom," the Elder says without looking at her.  "There's really no way I can put your mind at ease about this," he looks out the window above his desk, peering across the meadow leading towards the library.  "All you can do is trust me on this.  Can you do that?"

            "I-I guess so."  Porom turns to leave but before she walks through the door-

            "Oh, and don't worry so much about Palom," says the Elder.  "He is your brother, but he's also a grown-up.  He can take care of himself."

            "Yes sir."  And with that, Porom leaves the Elder alone in the room.

            The Elder sighs in contemplation.  For all the ninety-two years that he's been alive, never has the Elder felt a dread cut so deep into his heart_.  Something is terribly wrong in the air_, he thinks to himself.

"Soon.  It will happen soon."

            Just outside the Elder's cottage, below the windowsill, a brown and white cat resides, sitting attentively.  It's tail sparks slightly of fire and magic, as it's golden eyes gleam in the sunlight.

**End of Interlude**

            "Kain my good man, why don't you join us in our little meal here."

            "No thank you sire," says the tall, blonde haired man. "I had a meal on the way over."

            "Hey there Mr. Kain!"  Puvol yells out with yet another big mouthful of salad.

            The Captain of the Guards smiles then waves to the young prince.  Kain Highwind then pulls out a few sheets of paper, which he holds securely under his left arm.

            "I have the days scouting reports sire."

            Cecil sets down his fork, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and sits back comfortably in his chair, his long, greyish hair flowing across the cushion supporting his head.  The rest of the royal family continues on with their meals as Cecil gestures towards Kain.

            "You may proceed."

            Kain clears his throat quietly as he prepares to begin his report, his blue metal armor gleaming from the light through the dining hall windows.  This has been a daily routine for the past seventeen years.  Ever since Kain was chosen by Cecil to be his Captain of the Guards, Kain has taken great pride to ensure that he does all his duties to the best of his ability--duties such as this one.  After all these years he still takes pride in doing his many jobs as if he were doing them for the first time. 

            On the day he was elected, Kain became the leader and teacher of over two hundred soldiers.  Now that number has increased to over three hundred strong making the kingdom of Baron's military force the largest in the world.  With so many soldiers at his disposal, Kain mapped out three strategic areas, about a mile and a half around Baron's perimeter, and created Baron's first military base camps--one to the south, west, and north.  They were named the Kain's Triangle.  Kain himself thought of it as unnecessary and completely humiliating, but it was Cecil who gave it the name, and whatever the King says, sticks.  These base camps would insure increased protection over the world's most thriving and most populous nation.  There was one problem though and that was to the east.  Half a mile to the east of Baron lies the Gheridian Ocean.  Even if a military base was set up on the shores of the beach, any enemy who took flight in the sky could easily target Baron with such a short distance to close.

            Kain had an idea though.  Baron could build a man made station a mile or so off the coast of the continent.  This station would have a huge platform with large steel pillars holding it aloft at about two hundred feet above sea level.  The platform would be large enough to support fifteen airships and the station would house up to fifty soldiers.  If at any given time an attack arises, a single airship could fly to Baron with a warning signal while the other airships keep the enemy at bay.  With the speed of any airship, the estimated time of arrival to Baron would be about two minutes, and with Kain's routine of having at least two airships in the air at all times in effect, it's guaranteed that at least one would make it to Baron to warn them.

            Kain had given this suggestion over five years ago to Cecil who backs him up entirely, but unfortunately the twelve members of Baron's High Council disapproves of it, siting costs and lack of resources.  They suggested that perhaps over time there would be enough money and men to support Kain's idea, but that has yet to come to fruition.  The Captain of the Guards scowls at the High Council for their continuous bickering and pointless chatter.  They rarely agree on anything and they're always ready to shoot down a good idea for ridiculous reasons.  Yet it was the townspeople who wanted the High Council to be able to take in suggestions and complaints, as the King already has much to do himself.

            After giving his report, which didn't have anything really interesting in it--a small fire in Toroia, a cave-in at one of the mines in Silvera--Kain sets his report on the dining table.

            "Is there anything else before I leave my liege?"  Kain stands at attention, his armor clicking and clanging with his movements.

            "Yes there is Kain.  It's a reminder," Cecil leans forward, his left elbow resting on the dining table.  "How many times do I have to tell you, when you and I are not in the company of the townspeople or your soldiers, to call me by my name?"  Cecil gives him a stern eye and then quickly softens it. "I know you want to show respect, especially to set an example to your soldiers, but you and I have been friends for over twenty years, and I am no more different than you."

            Kain looks directly at his King and says, "Yes Cecil.  Forgive me.  Sometimes I just get caught up in my duties and; well you know how I am."

            "You're a good man Kain, and that's how I know you," Cecil smiles at his longtime friend. "You may tend to your other duties now, but before you do, why don't you take some of this food here.  I know you ate already, but I don't want it going to waste."

            "Take whatever you want Mister Kain!"  Puvol says with a mouth full of bread. 

            Rosa gives Puvol another stern look to which he acknowledges with innocent eyes and a quick swallow.


	4. Mysidia

**Chapter 2:  Mysidia**

Surrounded by beaches on three sides, beautiful weather year round, and thriving with the sparks and sounds of magic, Mysidia is the best location for tourists.  A magic show here, another there; lots of games and lots of fun; one will always find the city bustling with business and spectacles.

            Since the war with Zeromus, Mysidia needed to create an identity for itself, and with the tremendous amount of damage the city had taken during the war, now was the perfect time to do so.  Turning Mysidia into a tourist's paradise was the best choice, as the increased revenue that comes in helps to pay off the workers who rebuilt the town, then towards expansion, increasing security, and other miscellaneous tidbits.

            A great part of that security could be found to the east of Mysidia, about a mile away.  There lies the Mysidian outpost, a military base like those found in and around Baron.  King Cecil had suggested that military outposts be posted at every major town and kingdom, and many of those leaders agreed it would be in their best interests.  

For Mysidia security was a must.  Being a tourist city, Mysidia lends itself to a lot of pickpockets and thieves.  With the increase in gambling throughout the city, security needed to be tightened even more.  At least twenty sentries roam the city and its perimeter at all times.  The outpost towards the east serves partly as a prison for those who are caught in wrong doings.  The rest of the facility houses around sixty soldiers and five airships.  Ten more airships are being built, and more soldiers are being trained everyday.  Having all this security is a small price to pay to live in or visit one of the more luxurious cities in the world.

            Now, through all the crowds and distractions, the noise and the chatter, a young man sits attentively by the great water fountain in the city square.

            "Where could she be?  I've been waiting for a while now," Palom looks towards the western horizon; the sun beginning its descent as the evening rises.  "Maybe she's still picking out what to where tonight."  Palom's mind wanders in thought as to what spectacular looking dress Lyrca might wear.  _With her looks, her body, oh my_, Palom thinks to himself.  

It's been almost a year that Palom and Lyrca have been seeing each other.  They met under very normal circumstances considering the type of life that Palom leads--being a student of magic under the watchful eye of the Elder, and living his life as one of the heroes of the war; those are things not everyone can put on their resume.  

Lyrca on the other hand is a normal, beautiful young lady.  She has a normal family, and leads a normal life.  She graduated at the top of her class, never touched a sword in her life, and she didn't know a thing about magic.  Fighting is something that Lyrca abhors, and she's always quick to strike down any violent notions anyone has, citing that violence doesn't solve anything.

            Normal.

            Had she not met Palom, Lyrca's life would have continued to be as such.  Yet once she and Palom connected, she started to get interested in things like magic and sorcery.  Hearing his stories intrigued her, mystified her; it also helps that Palom is very good at telling stories, and at stretching the truth a little.  

So Lyrca took it upon herself to learn a little magic--reading books that Palom gave her and practicing late at night.  It took her a good month to learn how to quickly grow a flower in a span of three seconds--a white magic spell with no use whatsoever, as Palom put it.  But those are the kinds of spells that Lyrca prefers doing--levitating small objects, making herself invisible--nothing to do with violence.  Lyrca would get very excited when a particular spell she's been practicing finally works, and she would immediately show Palom, who would clap and give his approval; all the while wondering what use these spells would be in battle.

            Palom is a magician of the black arts--half of the twin magic that he and his sister Porom share, with she being the white half.  Being that black magic mainly deals with offense; that, coupled with Palom's take no prisoners, I'm the best attitude; Palom just can't grasp the thought of magic being used for 'silly' things like growing plants, or talking to animals.

That was all just part of Lyrca's sweetness though.  Her long, brownish hair always dressed in a pony tail that stops just below her waist; her soft, yet mesmerizing eyes in a glorious shade of darkened blue; those lips, pursed into a smile that could melt the fiercest of hearts; so sweet and delicate, charming and lively; altogether makes the one person in Palom's life, the right one.            

"She's got a great looking chest too," Palom whispers to himself.  "It's gotta be at least thirty-two inches."

            "What's gotta be thirty-two inches?" asks the unmistakable voice.

            Palom turns to look at Lyrca, her eyes perplexed in curiosity, wondering what in the world could he be mumbling about now?

            "Um...uh...the blade of my new sword.  Specially made...yeah."  Palom tries to crease a smile through this lie without much success.

            "Is thirty-two inches long enough for a blade?"  She asks with no trace of suspicion on her face.  As sweet and beautiful as she is, Lyrca also lends herself to a certain amount of blindness; a mind reader she is not.  Yet more than that, she is loosely naive about certain things--the thoughts of men being one of them.

            "Well it's still in the process of planning of course," Palom's mind races furiously, his words explained through lack of breath and stuttering.  "But the dimensions are well to my liking."  Palom bites his lip after this last remark.

            "I see." Lyrca says.

            _No sarcasm, no suspicion, I'm in the clear_, Palom thinks to himself.

            "You must be starving.  Why don't we head on over to the restaurant."  He suggests, to which she agrees with a nod and a beautiful smile.

            As they walk side by side down the main street, Palom glances over at Lyrca, taking in her beauty and radiance.  The red skirt that's cut just above her knees is adorned with white lace, and a single flower is stitched into the bottom right corner.  A purple ribbon tied to the center of her belt reflects her favorite color.  Of course if you asked Palom about what kind of skirt she wore this evening, he wouldn't even be able to remember the color as his eyes were quickly fixed on her blouse--a white, silky top fixed into a glorious V-shape that accentuated her bosom.  _That's some mighty deep cleavage_, Palom muses silently.

            Lyrca quickly turns to face Palom, to which Palom's eyes dart upwards to meet hers.

            "What are you thinking?"  She asks.

            "Just thinking how beautiful you are."  

            Palom holds her hand within his, and as they stroll towards Mysidia's Fine Dining Restaurant, Palom steals just one more glance at her soft, white bosom.

**Interlude**

            "Queen Rydia Geraldine has arrived my liege."  Cecil's high servant exits the dining room after making his announcement**.**

A few seconds after the servant leaves, the Queen of Eblana enters the room.  Her eminence is one of great royalty and beauty.  Her long, flowing green hair is neatly dressed; pulled back into a ponytail, and fastened by a gold hairpin.  Her dress, matching the glorious color of her hair, fits like a mold to her body as it shimmers in the sunlight from the many windows in the dining room.  The strings of pearls that hang at her waist act as a belt, holding various pouches of magic dust and little trinkets.  She bows before Baron's royal family, and as she rises, her soft brown eyes meet to greet her hosts.

            "Hi Aunt Rydia!"  Puvol waves emphatically at the Queen, to which Rydia is quick to wave back.

            "Hello Puvol.  And how is the Harvey family doing today?"  Rydia smiles at her long time friends Cecil and Rosa.

            "Couldn't be better," Cecil gestures to the seat next to Puvol.  "Why don't you have a seat next to your star pupil?  We have some leftovers from our recent meal.  I could have the chef warm them up for you."

            "Oh, no thank you," Rydia takes her seat next to the youngest Harvey member.  "I think this little one is anxious to get to the next lesson, aren't you Puvol?"

            "Uh-huh, uh-huh," Puvol nods with great enthusiasm, his hands tapping the arms of his chair in excitement.  "I've got my lightning spell down pretty good."

            _You can say that again_, Sylia thinks to herself.

            "Oh, by the way," Cecil interrupts.  "I almost forgot to wish you a happy birthday."

            "That's right.  You celebrated your thirty-fourth a few days ago didn't you?"  Rosa adds.

            "Well technically it's thirty-four," Rydia replies.  "But in actuality it's supposed to be twenty-five.  If it wasn't for my stay in the Land of Monsters that is."

            Seventeen years ago, Rydia was a budding little eight year old who lived in the Town of Mist, the home of a race known as 'The Callers.'  She was very playful, very emotional, and very gifted.  Rydia's race has the ability to summon powerful beings to aid them in times of need.      Unfortunately, a terrible invasion destroyed Rydia's town and most of its people.  This invasion came in the form of a black, wooden box that exploded into numerous creatures that torched the entire town.  Two young soldiers brought that box to the Town of Mist from Baron--Kain and Cecil.  It is a day that Rydia will never forget, for on that fateful day she lost everything, including her mother.  That was also partly and unintentionally Cecil's doing, which he will never be able to live down.  Rydia has fully forgiven Cecil for everything that happened on that fateful day, knowing that Cecil was tricked into delivering that box, by an evil king.

            Cecil eventually took Rydia into his care, and they started a journey together.  But along the way, their paths were divided, and Rydia ended up in the Land of Monsters; supposedly a place no human had ever been to until she arrived.  Rydia befriended the land's king and queen—Leviathan and Asura—and all the creatures that lived there.  

That's where the incredible happened.  For reasons unknown, inn the Land of Monsters, time is sped up rapidly, and within the few months that she resided there, Rydia aged a little more than nine years.  It was an unbelievable transformation that took Rydia some getting used to.  But as she aged at this alarming rate, she also spent much of her time honing her magic skills.  She became as much of a magician in the black arts as she was a caller.  King Leviathan and Queen Asura taught Rydia everything they knew and have promised to come to Rydia's aid whenever 'called.'

            Thus is the woman who lives her life today—Rydia Geraldine, the Queen of Eblana, and the wife of another Zeromus crusader—Edward "Edge" Geraldine.

            "How is your husband these days?"  Asks Rosa.

            "Edge is the same old Edge, always moving about and giving orders, trying to impress everyone," Rydia replies.  "I've noticed over the years though, that his heart has grown tremendously; always helping out the homeless people who walk around town and such.  I guess after we rebuilt the city, basically from scratch, and fixed up the castle, Edge realized how much it all meant to him.

            "He was never quite the same after his parents died, though I think he tries to hide it with that flashy attitude of his.  Being the successor to the throne lends itself to some emotional distress I guess, but he keeps himself very busy, especially with all the airships being built there."

            "Speaking of which," Cecil interrupts.  "How is our good friend, Mr. Cid Pollendina doing?"

            "You know, for someone who's supposed to be in his late fifties, he sure works like a person in his twenties," Rydia comments.  "I've never seen an old man move so fast.  Though I guess I shouldn't be saying such things, after all fifty isn't really that old."

            "I should say," Cecil says with a smile.  "We're going to hit the big five-oh eventually aren't we my dear?"

            "You, maybe, but not me."  Rosa quips back.

            A hearty laugh is shared throughout the dining hall between the long time friends, leaving the three Harvey children to wonder what was so funny.

**            End of Interlude**

            The sun sets on the town of Mysidia, lighting the sky up with numerous shades of red, yellow, orange, and blue.  If there were a symphony playing triumphant music in the town, it would have made the moment complete.

            As the last rays of sun seep under the horizon, all the lights of Mysidia burst into life, giving way to the nights activities.  The casinos are loud in their monetary speech—ka-ching 

ka-ching.  The crowds, with oohs and aahs as they watch the various shows in the theater and coliseum, bustle with excitement.  The residential area though is fairly silent, except for the few cruise ships passing by along the beach.

            It's here, on this beach, where a young woman stands silent and alone.  Her brown, shoulder-length hair sways with the Mysidian wind.  Her soft, dark brown eyes peer over the seemingly endless ocean; the water stopping just inches away from her feet, which are tucked in a pair of black, leather sandals. Her green tunic flows with every breath, her white, knee-length skirt ripples with every gust of wind.  With her hands cupped behind her back, she lets out a deep sigh—a sigh of loneliness, a sigh of want and need, of help and hurt.  A sparkling tear falls down her pale cheek, followed by a single sniffle.

            "Oh Porom, what are you crying about now?"  She whispers to herself.

            She starts to fiddle with the pearl necklace dangling from her neck.  The gold bracelet around her right arm clangs with the silver bracelet next to it; her name engraved on both of them.

            "Same old story, same old life," Porom says in a monotone voice.  "What am I still doing here?  Why am I still living such a life that seems so wasted and dull?  Same old life, same old questions."

            Porom looks upward towards the heavens, searching for the answers, searching for the meanings.  _So many clouds in the sky tonight_, she thinks to herself.

            "Can't see the moon, can't see the stars.  I guess I can't make my wishes tonight."

            Porom starts walking across the deserted beach, thinking of things that could make her life better, happier.  If she looked at the clouds a little while more, she would have caught a glimpse of the many shadows darting through them—westwards, towards the Kingdom of Baron.


	5. Sneak Attack

**Chapter 3:  Sneak Attack**

            It came just as the sun set on the Kingdom of Baron.  There was no warning, no alarm.  All that came to be was surprise and _chaos_, and nothing would ever be the same.  The attack came from the east, over the wide, expanding ocean.  Their numbers were more than anyone had ever seen for well over a decade, as they filled the sky with dark shadows that seemed endless and foreboding.  Their attack was like that of a fierce storm that appeared out of nowhere, with nothing but destruction on its mind, and death on its breath.

            Now all is in tyranny.

            "What is the status of the Red Wings?" Cecil asks quickly.

            "We have thirty ships on outpost duty," replies one of the lieutenants next to Cecil.  

"Fifteen are on maintenance, another fifteen on off-continent reconnaissance, and twenty on the ground ready for launch."

            "Launch those ships immediately!"  Orders Cecil.

            Lightning rips through the night's sky with a terrible brightness; streaking towards the ground and setting a few trees into flames.

            "Get those cannons set on the ramparts as quickly as possible," Cecil can feel the sweat start to run down his temple as he yells out his orders.  "Launch the signal flares!  Hurry!"

            As commanded, the men standing upon the castle towers launch flares in three directions--one towards every military outpost.  The flares are used to signal that the kingdom is under attack and that military help is needed immediately.

            "I hope they arrive soon."  Says a slightly stout soldier standing next to his king.  His mustache moves to and fro with every word spoken.  His belly bulges over the thin belt stretched around his waist.

            "We've no time to worry about that now Gestahr.  Grab all the soldiers that you can muster and head for the town.  Get as many of the townspeople into the castle as quickly as possible," Cecil speaks with an unwavering voice, one of strength and courage.  "Protect them with your lives!"

            Gestahr quickly salutes. 

"For the Kingdom of Baron my liege!"  And with that, he is off to battle; ten of his subordinates hastily follow him.

            Cecil eyes the clouded sky with a sense of terror.  

"Wings...numerous..." 

They fly around in circles above the town, the darkness hiding their features, yet their cries are that of hate and death.  Dread starts to fill Cecil's heart as he hears these horrendous voices.  He looks down upon the castle grounds as the many soldiers of Baron's army leap forth towards the city.  Their armor moving in unison as they bellow a cry of their own--one of courage and honor. Cecil then looks to the west side of the castle as twenty airships prepare to launch into the sky's dreaded night.  The soldiers scamper about in a hurried and disorderly fashion, much to Cecil's dismay.

            "Too slow, too slow," Cecil whispers.  He looks towards the western horizon, the full moon glaring at him, like a God staring down at his servant.  "Where are the reinforcements?"

            Another cry is heard and Cecil looks back towards the blackened heavens.  Never in his life did Cecil think he would live to see another day such as this.

            "Stay strong my children."  Cecil's eyes widen, as his heart seems to stop for a split second.  The saliva that has gathered in the back of Cecil's throat now makes it's way down it with a tightness that seems to choke him at the same time.  With one short breath, Cecil whispers a solemn prayer, his gray hair blowing within the harsh winds.  He eyes the shadows in the sky in their clustered formations and circular movements, until Cecil finally knows what's next.

            "Here it comes."

            "Nanny, keep the children locked in the basement."  Rosa speaks with haste as she gathers her healing potions and magic dust.  Her long, golden hair is tied back into a ponytail, her crown sitting on the bedroom dresser.

            "I'm coming to help mom!  I want to fight with dad!"  Jero grabs one of his father's many swords from the rack hanging in the master chamber.  The sword reverberates as the tip hits the stone floor. Jero struggles to lift it up.

            "Jero put that down immediately and do as I say!"  Rosa's eyes speak for themselves as she stares down at her oldest son.  "This isn't a game Jero, this is real," Rosa throws the sword to the side and grabs Jero by the shoulders.  "Your not ready yet son.  Your time will come when it comes.  Until then you're to watch over your little brother and keep each other safe, understand?"

            Jero can see the emotion in her dark blue eyes, the fear and worry.  It's painful for Jero to see his mother in such a manner, and he thought it best not to push the subject any further.

            "Do you understand Jero?"  Rosa repeats.  

            "Yes ma'am."  Jero looks downward as he walks towards Nanny, Puvol holding her hand with tears in his eyes.

            Rosa looks towards her eldest child with somber eyes.  She caresses Sylia's face with a mother's care.  Sylia always stood brave no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the risk.  At times it served as a mask for what she was really feeling, but in her heart Rosa knows what Sylia is capable of doing.  That's why she relies on Sylia the most.

            "Keep them safe Sylia."  Rosa's voice is soft but steady.

            "I will mother."  A single tear streaks down Sylia's pale cheek.  Then she quickly turns towards her brothers and takes her place next to Nanny.

            As Nanny walks the children toward the basement, Puvol turns to look at his mother one last time with his wide, brown, tear-filled eyes.

            "Be safe momma!"  Puvol waves emphatically, his little legs moving rapidly to keep up with Nanny's pace.

            "I will little one!"  Rosa's eyes water as she sees her children disappear around the corner of the hallway.  "I'll try."  She whispers.

            With that, Rosa knows what she must do.  She quickly rubs her eyes and runs towards the castle's main staircase and up to the main balcony.  All within the castle are in a panic, with every servant screaming or crying out in fear.  Dishes hit the floor, people run into each other; it's a mess made of _chaos_ and terror.

            Rosa bursts through the door of the balcony as one of her white magic students waits to meet her on the other end.  The expanse of the castle's main balcony is filled with white-robed magicians holding their medallions and magic pouches.  A white aura can be faintly seen over the entire area, as these sorcerers prepare to protect the castle; their cream-colored robes ripple and sway with rapid force.

            "All are present and accounted for My Lady Rosa."  The student bows quickly as she says this, her black hair blowing within the wind of _chaos_. 

            "Very good Merrilyn.  Tell everybody to prepare themselves, quickly.  We'll need every ounce of strength from everyone if we are to 'shell' the entire castle."  Rosa looks upward at the flying menace that is ready to pounce on Baron's civilians.  At this point, all Rosa can think about now is her husband, years removed from his last great battle.  

"Come back to me my love."  She whispers to herself.

            Their attack is swift, and their strength is pronounced.  The first wave hits the town like a battering ram, sending people and supplies flying to the winds of destruction.  Twelve enormous ravens swoop down with a wingspan of over twenty feet each.  Each raven includes a single imp rider equipped with a bow and many arrows which they let loose throughout the entire town.  The townspeople flee for their lives in all directions, many seeking refuge in their houses.  

            To this, the enemy has an answer.  The pudgy, little imp riders ready their bows and arrows, and steer their menacing winged monsters towards the occupied housing.  The tips of the arrows, covered in gasoline soaked cloth, are set ablaze.  With a sturdy pull, the imps aim their weapons of death at the red, wooden roofs and let their blazing arrows fly.  They light up the night's sky with a deadly display of bright orange and yellow.  A thin trail of smoke follows as the arrows hit their marks setting many of the town's houses bursting into flames.  Screams are heard within as the great winds help the fires to spread, forcing people to escape their houses, and making them vulnerable to the enormous ravens hovering above.

            "To the castle!  Everyone to the castle!"  Screams a soldier on horseback.  Many others follow him as they start the evacuation.  The soldiers quickly make their way throughout the town, trying to protect every citizen they can.  Over fifty of Baron's archers set themselves up around various parts of the city, taking aim at the gigantic beasts swimming throughout the cold, black night.  Arrows are let loose in an unrelenting volley, one after the other.  Three ravens hit the ground with an enormous thud, one crashing through the roof of a weapons shop.  The imps are thrown off their rides, screaming to the heavens as they plunge more than fifty feet to their deaths.

            A second volley of arrows flows through the cold, crisp air; three more ravens fall.

            Another horrendous cry is echoed within the sky as the second wave is launched.  Streaks of brown come crashing down on the soldiers and townspeople as a flock of white-tipped eagles make their attack, while another twenty ravens come swooping around the perimeters of the town, boxing everyone in.  It's like a shooting gallery now, with imps spearing the crowd of people with arrows, one after the other.  Women scream with a frenzied panic, children fall to the ground with tears in their eyes.

            The soldiers on horseback do their best to keep the eagles at bay.  These deadly birds soar above the town with a wingspan of ten feet each.  Then without warning, they tuck their wings in and dive.  Their yellow beaks, open in anticipation for a kill, are strong enough to take apart mostly anything.  But human flesh is the order of the day, and pain is the rate that pays. 

            "Take cover!"  A soldier yells out.  "We need reinforcements!"

            As if his prayers were answered, a loud war cry can be faintly heard within the gale-like winds.  A few seconds later, the cry is more pronounced as the castle's army leaps forth into battle. Their march is thunderous, and their loud voices speak to save the day.  The royal crest of Baron adorns the chest of every soldier's armor; their weapons set for the onslaught.  Arrows are sent flying, spears are let loose, and swords are waved through the air. The enormous Baron Army breaches through the enemy wall, with a fierce retribution.

            "Get as many of the townspeople as possible to the castle quickly!"  Orders Gestahr.

            Some of Gestahr's soldiers attempt to cover the townspeople with their shields, hoping to protect them from any arrows or flying debris, while the rest focus on the enemy.

            "Push them back men!"  Gestahr points with his sword. "Force them to the back of the town!"

            Four eagles swoop straight through the middle of the engaging army with such velocity that could rip huge trees into two; or in this case, armored soldiers.  The army splits into all directions from the force of the attack, which kills six men and injures a dozen more.  Gestahr, thrown to the ground from the impact, stands up and continues barking orders with blood trickling down the front of his plated armor.

            "Captain!"  Gestahr looks towards a soldier who's checking on one of the dead bodies.  "Get your men to the east side of town and spread them out.  We need to have a wider range of attack and make them take us out one by one instead of by groups, you understand?"

            The Captain nods and starts to carry out his orders.

            Gestahr takes a look around at his troops, especially the ones lying dead on the ground.  _We're going to take a beating_, he thinks to himself.  _We stay in the middle of this much longer and we're liable to--_

            "General Gestahr, look!"

            Gestahr looks up as the enemy's remaining forces swoop upwards towards the shadows still hovering in the sky.  The brownish feathers of the eagles are quickly enveloped in black as they melt into the dark sky.  Thunder booms throughout the land.  Then as quickly as they disappeared, the eagles reappear, with greater speed and greater numbers.  Thirty of them to be exact, and aimed straight for the heart of the army.

            "They're gonna hit!"

            Their strike is tremendous and merciless.  Weapons and shields are flown to oblivion, as the soldiers' armor does nothing to stop the feel of impact.  Sixty-seven men die within this one attack--men with families, men who fought in the Great War, men who only became soldiers just days ago--and through it all, Gestahr's body, lying blood-soaked and lifeless in the town square, is left to serve notice that a new war has been waged.  Gestahr's mighty broadsword, just inches away from his hand, lying there as cold and broken as it's owners body, will never speak another word of battle; another fallen war hero, in a war that has only begun.

            Amongst all this _chaos_ and tyranny, most of the townspeople escape towards the castle, whose soldiers fire cannons in the air at the shadows still hovering high above.  With all of the town's citizens either escaping or lying dead in the streets, the remaining soldiers retreat towards the castle's protective walls.  And with that, the battle's location shifts as well.

            "Fire!"  Orders Cecil.  Another volley of cannons is launched into the flock of shadows amassed in the sky.  "And get those damn airships off the ground for Baron's sake!"

            With that order, two airships finally take off.  Baron's air force were busy with things like working out, or taking naps; many were in the middle of their dinners and were taken completely off guard by the attack, hence the slowness in their battle preparations and lift off.  Two are up, but eighteen are still on the ground.

            _Those ships on the ground are vulnerable_, Cecil thinks to himself as he watches the two ships that took to the sky make their attack.  

            "Where are the reinforcements?"  Cecil eyes the sky beyond and around the land, but not a sign of help can be seen.  "Fire more flares!  We need those airships here immediately!"

            Just one level down from where he's standing, Cecil can see the castle's main balcony.  About forty of the Baron's white magician's have come together to perform a spell that they all hoped would never be needed.  Their white robes flutter rapidly with the intense winds flowing from the sky.  Their heads are bowed down in thought, their hands brought together in prayer.  Cecil prays as well. _Save us all_, he thinks as he eyes his wife standing at the forefront of the group.  _Let our union survive this catastrophe my love_--another thought, another prayer.

            "My lord, the shadows--" says one of the soldiers at Cecil's side.

            Just as the two airships move within firing range the shadows disperse in all directions, now filling the entire heavens with swift movement, yet no attack is made.  Yet as this happens, Cecil notices something very peculiar.

            "No clouds?"  Whispers Cecil to himself.  Darkness, and seeming emptiness from what there once was, and then a realization occurs.  The darkness starts to take shape and form, for emptiness it is not, yet more shadows much greater in size—four shadows to be exact.  A piercing cry, enough to make the eardrums hurt, is heard throughout the land.  The large silhouettes float closer to the coming airships, their features slowly revealed by the moonlight.

            "By the heavens."  Cecil whispers to himself, stunned by the spectacular sight.

            A tower guard stands next to Cecil, awed at what his eyes are taking in.

            "My lord, what do we do now?"

            Cecil, unable to take his eyes away from this new threat, says but one word.

            "Pray."

            Two red, one green, and one blue--four dragons altogether, and a menacing look on each of them.  Their yellow eyes gleam in the light of the moon, their enormous claws open and close in anticipation, their long necks sway back and forth as their scales ripple with each movement.  The dragons' glorious wings, over thirty-five feet across, flap with the strength and might of over a hundred soldiers, and with the intensity of a tornado.  Yet as big as they are, they move with such grace and deadly elegance to put you into a trance.

            Cecil shakes off this site and begins to bark orders to his men.

            "Get my flagship ready immediately."  He tells the soldier behind him.

            "My lord...?"

            "Do it!"

            "Yes my liege!"  The soldier runs as fast as he can towards the back of the castle.  Ten soldiers follow his lead.

            "You there!"  Cecil points to the soldiers manning the cannons.  "Fire at will!  Don't let up!  We need to keep them at bay until the mages protect the castle!"

            "Yes sir!"  The soldiers load every cannon on hand and fire several volleys at the deadly dragons, all of which miss their mark.  

"Reload quickly!"

            The dragons pay little or no attention to the exploding cannon balls around them, yet they seem fixed on the airships that are fast approaching.  Then suddenly, with tremendous speed, one of the red dragons swoops towards the lead airship; it's wings ripping through the wooden mast causing the airship to falter. The mast hits the deck, killing five soldiers on impact and causing severe damage to the bridge.  

            "Veer off!  Veer off!" yells the captain.  

            It's too little, too late.

            With one turn of it's head and a squint of it's yellow eyes, the red dragon takes in a deep breath and lets out an enormous stream of fire that sets ablaze the entire airship. Many of the soldiers scream in panic and despair as they burn in the searing flames.  The engine explodes into nothingness, sending the airship crashing down in a grand fireworks display, lighting up the entire sky, and sending its soldiers to their untimely deaths.

            The red dragon seems to smile at the work he has done, enjoying the delight of pure destruction and mammoth _chaos_.  The dragon bellows out an enormous cry of victory, which is quickly cut short by a cannon ball that explodes at the small of it's back.  The red wonder falters a bit, mostly by surprise rather than pain as it eyes the second airship not more than fifty yards away.

            "Fire!"  Yells the captain.

            Three shots are fired off the deck.  The cannon balls fly with great accuracy and speed; too fast for the surprised beast who takes three shots right to the chest.  The dragon's neck snaps upward with full extension as a loud scream is released, causing fire to trickle out of it's gaping mouth.  Its wings suddenly have no energy to perform as the red beast starts a free fall to the ground below.  As it somersaults downward, the red dragon gets a hold of itself and begins to beat its wings again, stopping short of hitting the rain-soaked plains.  The dragon hovers just twenty feet above the ground while it tries to get its bearings.

            "Don't let up on it!"  Cecil shouts.  "Keep it down there!  Keep firing at it men!"

            All the castle cannons are now locked onto the single red dragon.  One after another, the cannons spew out their destructive counterparts.  The red dragon's eyes bear witness to the twelve cannonballs locked onto it, and that would be the last site it sees.  Each cannonball hits its mark, ripping the scales and flesh of the beast, causing it to scream out with tremendous force.  Fire is spit out from the dragon's mouth uncontrollably, setting the surrounding forest into a blaze of flames.  Four holes are punctured into the beast's wings as green blood oozes out of its wounds profusely.  With no strength, and no life left, the dragon crashes to the ground with a great thunder.  One last smoking breath, and the beast is dead.

            "One down."  Cecil says to himself.

            Then the sky lights up once more as a tremendous explosion rings through the air.  The second airship bursts into flames as the second red dragon lets loose a volley of enormous fireballs.  Most of the airship is destroyed in midair as the rest of the pieces are blown in all directions.

            Cecil's heart sinks to his stomach knowing full well that the next attack will be on the castle itself.

            "Please God..." Cecil whispers.

            As if his prayers were answered, the sound of an engine can be heard in the distance; accompanied by many more a few seconds later.  Cecil looks toward the western sky as seven airships make their way to the castle.

            "The reinforcements."  Cecil smiles slightly for a second, grateful of the sight he now beholds.  But that is quickly cut short by a scream from the sky.  The attack on the castle has begun.

            Eagles, imps, and ravens make their way around and about the castle, landing anywhere and everywhere.  All of Baron's remaining army now fight for their lives and the lives of their people.  Many of the enemy units land in the castle's square searching for the remaining townspeople who sought refuge in the castle.

            "Lieutenant!"  Cries Cecil.

            "Yes my lord."  Answers a man standing upon one of the castle's walls.

            "Get your unit and protect the mages, now!"

            "Yes sir!  Unit four follow me!"  The lieutenant's men follow his lead with haste.  Because of the lengthy preparation of the spell being cast by the white magicians, protection is needed to ensure that the spell will work; for any loss of a mage could mean that the spell will not have the same effect.  

"Protect them with your lives men!"  The soldiers surround the mages, weapons in hand, ready to do battle.

            Then, without warning, a gigantic fireball slams into the side of the castle.  Stone and mortar are obliterated, leaving a gaping hole in the southern wall—the wall that holds the main balcony up.  Cecil eyes the red dragon in the sky as it takes in a deep breath to let loose another ball of flame.  

Without hesitation, Cecil closes his eyes and begins a reflection spell, hoping he can get it off in time.  Cecil concentrates and whispers, hands closed together.  He hears the red dragon bellow out, and Cecil knows that the dragon's ball of destruction is on its way.  Cecil moves his lips quickly, opens his hands and stretches his arms towards the congregation of mages.  With one last word a stream of white light is emitted from his hands, which creates a half sphere around the magicians.  But before it can fully be formed, the fireball hits it with full force.  Instead of being reflected back at the dragon, the fireball explodes against the wall of light sending fire and flames about the entire balcony.  A soldier, standing near the balcony wall, is set afire, and in a daze of panic, falls off the balcony to his death.  A few of the white mages fall to the stone floor, but quickly stand to continue with their spell.  The soldiers around them continue on with their efforts to protect the mages from the eagles and ravens swarming the castle.

            "That gave them enough time."  Cecil says, as the seven airships get into firing range and attack the three remaining dragons.  As if the tide were turning, nine of the eighteen airships remaining on the ground begin their launch.  

            All of a sudden, a white light surrounds the entire castle.  At first it is faint, then it quickly generates into a more solid form creating a great dome of solid light around the castle.  The red dragon fires another volley of fireballs that harmlessly explode against this white shell of light, causing the dragon to scream out in frustration.

            "Okay, here we go."  Cecil says with greater enthusiasm.  He runs quickly towards the back of the castle, passing by the numerous soldiers and enemy units engaged in deadly combat.  Many of his soldiers are strewn about the castle's floors, cold and lifeless.  But now was not a time to mourn.  Cecil reaches the castle's northern wall and looks over it to see five airmen on the ground, standing near a large wooden platform that's almost as long as the entire castle.

            "Is my flagship ready?"  Cecil yells.

            "Yes my lord, final preparations are finished."

            "Get it up then."

            "Yes sir!"

            With that, an alarm is sounded as the wooden platform splits open, like two drawbridges being closed at the same time in opposite directions, lifting upwards with the sound of many gears moving all at once.  The platform gives way to a large hole in the ground that's filled with sounds of machinery.  Then darkness gives weigh to light as Cecil's enormous flagship speeds it's way out of the underground hangar.  The ships twelve spinning propellers create gigantic gusts of wind. They work in unison to lift the humongous machine into the air.  Cecil makes a great leap onto the airship as it makes it's way past the balcony.  

            "Alright, let's get this thing moving!"  Cecil speaks to the more than fifty men controlling the flagship.  "We're going to get right into the thick of it!"

            With that, Cecil's flagship makes its way to the battle fought in the air.  Explosions and debris fill the night's sky.  Cecil takes notice that the second red dragon has fallen, lying lifeless on Baron's plains not too far from the first dragon.  But he also serves notice to the fact that only seven of the sixteen airships that took flight are left.

            "Cecil, try to get us as close to the dragons as possible."

            Cecil turns in surprise to the voice behind him.

            "Rydia?  You shouldn't be up here."  Cecil's concerned voice has merit, but Rydia would have none of it.

            "I thought I could be of some help and there's not much I can do about these big lizards down on the ground," Rydia's eyes are fixed on the two beasts hovering in the air.  "Besides I have the perfect spell to counterattack with."

            "Alright. Then let's do it my friend," Cecil knows what Rydia is capable of.  Over the years, Rydia has done nothing but increase her black magic ability.  It would be safe to say that she is the most powerful black magician on the planet.  Even if Tellah were alive today, his powers would shade in comparison to hers because of her ability to 'call' worldly beings to aid her in battle.  "Get us as close as you can to those dragons Admiral!"

            "Yes sir!"

            Cecil's flagship increases it's speed, the sails on all three of the enormous masts on the ship are stretched to their limit.  All twenty-four cannons located all over the ship are ready for battle.  Cecil looks to his right at Rydia, her eyes closed and hands together.  Her soft rose petal lips whisper words of magic, her emerald green hair flows with the winds, as does her dress.

            Cecil's eyes now glare at the enemy.  The blue dragon takes in a deep breath as the air seems to swirl around it.  A bright, luminescent light outlines the beast for a split second, then it exhales with enormous force as a stream of searing ice breaks through the sky.  Two airships are caught in the wave of splintered ice that bores through them like a drill, cutting its way from one end to the other.

            "Are we in firing range Admiral?"  Cecil asks.

            "Yes sir!"

            "Then I want you to steer left and fire the cannons on the port side on my mark."

            With that order, the flagship leans to the left.  Every man attending a cannon signals they are ready.

            "Fire!" Yells Cecil.

            Twelve cannons are let loose, the force of which causes the flagship to shake and shudder a little.  The cannonballs seem to take an eternity to reach their targets.

            "Switch to the starboard side and fire the other twelve as soon as you can!"  Cecil says.

            But the dragons seem to be ready.  The first four cannonballs are bounced harmlessly away as the blue dragon swings it's spiky tail through the air, while the green dragon spews out an enormous cloud of vapor that causes the cannonballs to explode in mid-flight.  Now all eyes are on Cecil's flagship as the two dragons see something new to play with.

            "We're in trouble."  Whispers Cecil to himself.

            Just as his thoughts turn to Rydia, she stretches her arms upward towards the heavens and yells out.

            "Sus E Ale Neo-Bahamut!"

            Suddenly, thunder and lightning surround the two dragons, as a ray of light breaks downward through the clouds.  What comes out of it is awe-inspiring as a gigantic red dragon bursts through the light with a fierce roar and a wingspan of over one hundred feet.  The two dragons seem to be stunned by this massive wonder as they do nothing but beat their wings and watch; watch as the dragon Bahamut stretches it's long neck towards them and opens it's mouth.  Numerous beams of light gather together to form a small ball of energy that grows very rapidly at the forefront of Bahamut's gaping mouth.  All of Bahamut's scales ripple to and fro like a red wave.  It's yellow eyes squint in anger towards the green and blue dragons.  Then with a loud blast, a stream of intense light streaks through the air and hits the smaller dragons head on.  The sky seems to break apart as the pure energy from the beam causes the clouds to shatter and disappear.  The green and blue dragons scream out in an ugly and horrendous voice.  The beam lasts for a good five seconds before it dissipates.  And as quickly as Bahamut arrived, so does it fly away, leaving the other two dragons to tumble down to the ground below, already lifeless.

            Rydia falls to her knees, most of her energy expired from the complexity and strength of her spell.  Cecil falls to her side and cradles her in his arms.  Her eyes are barely open as Rydia can just make out the look of relief on Cecil's face.

            "You did it my friend.  You saved us," Cecil gives her a kiss on her forehead.  "We owe you our lives Rydia.  Thank you."

            Rydia creases a smile through her tired face, happy in the knowledge that she could be of help to Cecil and his people.

            "My liege," One of the crewmembers speaks to Cecil from one of the ships balconies.  "The rest of the enemy units are retreating sire!  We've won!"

            _Have we_?  Cecil thinks to himself, knowing full well that the most powerful kingdom in the world--his kingdom--now lays in ruin.  The town is a fiery mess, the military is in disarray, and hundreds of his people are probably dead.

            "We didn't win," Cecil whispers. "We merely survived."

            Rydia looks upward at him.  A tear trickles down his face and falls onto hers.  Now all that's left is to pick up the pieces and try to discern what the attack was all about.  And that is the foremost question on Cecil's mind.


	6. The Proposal and the Promise

**Chapter 4:  The Proposal and The Promise**

            "And what would you like to have for dinner this evening sir?"  Asks the waiter in a very heavy accent.

            Palom looks over the menu with a stressed look over his face, his brow furrowed.  It's as if a bomb is set to go off in his lap, and if he doesn't choose his meal soon, the bomb will explode.  He's already told the waiter to come back in a few minutes twice, and Palom is still in a fix over what to eat_.  Should it be the broiled cinderpup steaks_, Palom asks himself.  _Or maybe just some baked Panuvian red beans with salad.  Or maybe..._

            "You still need more time sweetheart?"  Lyrca smiles at Palom's indecisiveness.

            "No, no.  I know what I want," Palom feels a sweat coming on as he points his index finger down upon the menu.  "I'll have that one."

            "Very well sir, we'll get right to work on your dinner," The well-dressed waiter, garbed in a black tuxedo and tie, with a blue cummerbund around his waist, takes down Palom's order.  His thick mustache, which covers practically his entire upper lip, keenly compliments his shiny, bald head.  "Would you like anything to drink--wine, champagne?"

            Palom quickly tenses up with this new decision to make, but Lyrca is quick to pounce on the question.

            "Just water for now."

            "Very good madam."  With that, the waiter takes their menus and leaves the dinner order with the chefs in the kitchen.

            Lyrca stares at Palom amusingly_. He looks as if ordering dinner was the scariest moment of his life_, she thinks to herself.

            "That was a close call huh?"  Lyrca says with a slight giggle.

            "Yeah, thanks for covering me with the drinks question."  Palom says, wishing he had that water right about now.

            "Why are you so indecisive lately?  You were never like this when we first met."

            "I don't know," Palom looks upwards at the ceiling.  The beautiful dome-like structure, with its well-crafted carvings and paintings, is adorned with a huge chandelier that hangs thirty feet above the ballroom floor.  The light reflected off the chandelier's many crystals bathes the entire restaurant in a glorious orange tinge.  "I guess I have a lot on my mind right now."

            "Tell me."  Lyrca leans her right elbow on the table and cups her hand under her chin, her face standing at attention as she prepares to listen to Palom's troubles.  

That's one thing that Palom could always count on Lyrca for.  Whenever something was bothering him, or if the world was getting him down, Palom would always have Lyrca there to ease his pain.  'Although it's nothing I can't handle on my own,' Palom would always say, but Lyrca knew better than that.  The times that they've spent together has given each other the knowledge to know when something was wrong with the other.

            At the beginning it was difficult to get Palom to open up about his problems and discontentment with some of the things in his life.  It's still difficult to this day, but a little easier than before.  Either way, the subject would just change dramatically to one of Palom's heroic tales to save the world from destruction, but Lyrca knew that that was just a cover for his pains.  She remains persistent, and eventually she gets Palom to tell her the whole story.

            "It's about the Elder," Palom leans back in his cushioned chair, his left index finger tracing the line of his upper lip, as he sits in contemplation.  "This mission that he sent us on; I don't get it."

            "You mean the rock?"

            "Yeah.  I mean, it seemed pretty dumb at first, and when the mission was over, it seemed even dumber.  At first I thought it was just some kind of training exercise to keep us on our toes, like that time he sent us into the forest to retrieve his stolen amulet, but it wasn't really stolen.  He put it there to see how well we would fare against the beasts in the forest.  Of course they were all pushovers, a couple of forest beetles and a few wild boars, but I guess he felt we needed something to keep us active; to keep up our training."

            "Here's your water madam, sir," The waiter sets down the two glasses.  "Your dinners will be here shortly."

            "Thank you."  Says Lyrca, keeping her eyes on Palom and listening attentively as he continues with his story.

            "But it was the Elder's demeanor, his posture, or the lack of eye contact, or all of the above that makes me think that this wasn't just a training exercise.  All he said was the rock was important and that's it," Palom takes in a big gulp of water from his glass.

"It made me feel very uneasy, and frankly a bit nervous."  Palom takes another gulp of water.

            "Where exactly on Mount Ordeals did you have to go to get this rock?"  Asks Lyrca.

            "Remember that story I told you about—of Tellah Westington and Cecil's transformation?  How me and my sister guided Cecil to the top of Mount Ordeals and found a room with many mirrors?"

            Lyrca nods in remembrance.

            "That room is where we found the rock.  The Elder said it would be there, sitting in the very middle of that room, and it was.  The rock was the only thing in the room, nothing else; not even a pebble.  Because of this fact, my sister and I figured that the Elder must have put it there.

            "But when he spoke to us today, there was something very grave in his voice.  It's a voice I haven't heard in years.  I fear something's going to happen, and it's not going to be pretty."  Palom finishes his glass of water, and as he sets his glass down on the cloth-covered table, a waiter passing by quickly refills Palom's glass.

            "I've never seen you look so dire," The expression on Lyrca's beautiful face revealing her worry.  "It must be very serious."

            Palom nods in agreement, his eyes blankly scanning the restaurant as his thoughts continue to run through his mind.  Lyrca has never seen Palom look so serious before.  At first she thought she should be afraid, but that was quickly replaced with a realization; a realization that brings a slight smile to her face, to which Palom notices.

            "What's the smile for?"  Palom arches an eyebrow.

            "Through all your boyish looks, your rouge-like attitude and behavior, your crude jokes and stories, there's actually a man behind all that.  I see it in your eyes right now and it's something I've never seen before.  I like it."  Lyrca reaches across the table to hold Palom's hand.

            Palom smiles faintly.

            "Now my sister is another story."  He says while reaching for his glass again.

            "Is something wrong with Porom?"  Lyrca asks.

            "She seems to be really down lately.  I hardly see her around anymore and when I do, she always has this somber look on her face," Palom rests his glass of water on the table, then starts to trace the rim of the glass with his index finger.  "Come to think of it, I haven't seen her smile in a long time."

            Music begins to fill the air as a small band takes its place on a stage located at the far end of the restaurant.  Many couples take to the dance floor, moving in tune to the slow, soothing sounds.  The lights in the restaurant dim ever so slightly to suit the mood of the evening.

            "Have you talked to Porom about this?" Lyrca asks with a little concern in her voice.

            Palom shakes his head, keeping his eyes on his glass of water.

            "I just figure she's stressing herself out with all of her studying," Palom starts to twiddle his thumbs.  "I mean that's pretty much all she does.  That and get on my case about not studying."

            "Well have you ever considered that maybe she's depressed?"  Lyrca takes a sip of her water. 

            "About what?"

            "Well, whenever I see her in town she's always by herself.  Does she have any friends that she hangs around with?"

            "I know she has friends," Palom ponders for a moment.  "Though I've never seen her actually going out with them.  Maybe they spend their time at the library or something.  I never go in there."

            Palom and Lyrca lean back in their chairs as the servers lay their food out for them.  The aroma catches Palom's nose causing his stomach to growl in anticipation, yet he never touches his food.  He stares blankly at the meal spread before him, thinking back to the past when he and his sister would just talk; talk and nothing else.

            "Perhaps she's wanting a relationship now," Lyrca leans her head forward, looking to get Palom out of his trance.  "Maybe your sister's lonely.  And if that's the case, it must be even more difficult for her to see you and I together all the time."

            "Maybe."  Palom says in a monotone voice.

            "Not maybe sweetie," Lyrca says in a slightly stern voice.  "You should talk to her.  She's your sister—your twin sister, and the only real family you have.  If you're concerned then you should do something about it.  Believe me, she'll be glad that you asked her 'what's wrong?' And even if there's nothing you can do about it, at least you tried, and it won't bother you as much."

            The crease between Palom's eyebrows starts to soften.  Then after a few seconds of contemplation, he nods his head in agreement.

            "You're right.  I'll ask her the next time I see her."

            "You promise?" Lyrca says, raising an eyebrow.

            "I promise," Palom replies.  He looks toward the dance floor as many of the couples return to their seats, while the few remaining couples wait for the next song to be played.  "When we made plans for this date, you said you had something to tell me."

            "You know what?  It can wait," Lyrca picks her fork up.  "Let's eat."

            As another song begins to play within the magnificent confines of the domed restaurant, Palom and Lyrca start their dinners.

            The cool Mysidian breeze flows in rhythm with the oceans waves, like a baby rocking back and forth in its mother's arms.  The night's air is clean and tranquil, as the stars twinkle with a glorious fire that burns billions of miles away.  The clouds that occupied the sky just moments ago, have suddenly taken their leave, floating away with great speed as if they had someplace else to be.  Seabirds, taking a mid-evening flight, can be heard some distance away, chirping to the tune of the rolling waters below.  The beach is like a soft, moving carpet with its grains of sand blown about by the light winds. 

A single trail of footprints is embedded in the beach where the ocean starts to recede, the full moon's glow reflecting off the dampened sand.  The footprints line the entire beach and they end at the base of a rocky hill.  The slightly steep hill rises about two hundred feet above the shore and ends in a cliff over-looking the ocean.  

Porom stands atop this cliff, staring at the full moon with tear filled eyes, looking for a sign, looking for guidance.  She tilts her head slightly, her brown hair swaying in the breeze.  Her mouth moves in speech, but her voice is inaudible.  Porom's words are for no one but her and the moon.  Her stare is soft, yet piercing, her eyes never blinking, looking for the answers.  The moon seems to give off an iridescent glow, just for a moment.  The Mysidian winds start to pick up as Porom stretches her arms out sideways, the sleeves of her tunic flapping rapidly.  She takes one step to the very edge of the cliff, her sandals just peering over.  It's a sheer drop to the shallow waters below.  The ocean's waves shatter across the many jagged rocks standing at the base of the cliff, but Porom never takes her eyes off the moon.  Her breathing is erratic and the tears run down her cheeks like an endless waterfall.  With fists clenched, Porom finally closes her eyes, makes a wish, and—

            "Porom?"

            Startled, Porom almost loses her balance and her life to the rocks below.  Quick to wipe away the tears from her face, Porom eyes the shadowy figure standing twenty feet away.

            "Who, who's there?"  Porom stutters.

            The figure comes out of the shadows to reveal his face to the moonlight.

            "It's me Porom."

            "Gerald?"

            Gerald Vestbrook, a young man of twenty-eight.  He came to Mysidia with his father two years ago as part of an around the world tour.  Gerald hails from a small village between the town of Damycan and the nation of Fabul, about a mile from Mt Hobs.  A lover of travel, Gerald decided to take a worldwide trip to see the 'new world'—the world rebuilt after the Zeromus War.  When he and his father came to Mysidia, Gerald loved it so much that he decided to relocate and he's been there ever since.

            "I saw someone climbing up the hill and I decided to check things out," Gerald's six-foot stature and well-built physique is like an immovable icon among the black emptiness surrounding him.  He uses a finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark blue eyes showing signs of worry.  "You know, not many people come out here this late at night, and if they do, they don't come alone.  It's dangerous you know."  Gerald takes a quick scan of the area behind him, his short, blonde hair blowing in the wind.

"Well, what are you doing out here?"  Porom tries to hide the shakiness in her voice as she brushes the remains of her tears away.  "If it's so dangerous, then why are you here all by yourself?"

"I usually come out here to see the stars," Gerald replies.  "Though I normally stay below the hill near the confines of one of the guard towers.  Sometimes I'll bring my telescope to get a closer view of some of the planets; maybe catch site of a falling star or comet," Gerald rolls up the sleeves of his gray, silk shirt, then fixes his collar.  "I saw a shadow moving about the beach and I got curious as to who could be out here this late at night."

"Well it's just me," Porom stares at the ground, her arms wrapped around her body.  "I um, usually don't do this but…" Porom stammers, trying to think of some reasonable excuse as to why she's here.

"Are you alright Porom?"

The extreme sincerity in his voice causes Porom to break down once more.  She puts her hands over her mouth trying desperately to muffle her cries and sniffles, but to no avail.  The faucet has been turned on and her emotions take over.

Gerald runs to be by her side, holding Porom in his arms while making sure to bring her further from the edge of the cliff.  Gerald holds her close, presses his cheek against her head, and runs a hand through her hair trying to comfort her.

They met a few days after Gerald moved to Mysidia.  Gerald has a strong interest in astronomy, so the first thing he did was get a job at Mysidia's research center.  Though not one of the best in the world, the researchers there do their fair share of studying things from biology, to physics, and also astronomy.  Gerald loved his job so much that he would eventually become the top assistant six months later.

One of Gerald's many jobs involves going to the library for research material.  Scientists all over the world continuously contribute their findings to people all over the world.  After writing down their discoveries, the scientists have their many assistants write multiple copies, who in turn have those copies delivered to every known library the world over.  "Knowledge is power," many have preached, and that knowledge has helped many nations to expand their horizons, and helped to rebuild the world that the people know today.  

So one day at Mysidia's library, Gerald checked the usual shelves of books to see if anything new had come in.  There was no timetable or schedule for new arrivals. You just had to check from time to time.  While cutting around a corner, Gerald ran right into Porom.

"I'm very sorry about that."  Porom said.

"No, it was my fault, I should've been paying more attention," Gerald's handsome smile caught her eye.  "I see you're interested in the art of white magic."  He pointed to the books in Porom's arms.

"Why yes, I'm a practitioner of white magic in fact," Porom said softly.  "Do you study any magic?"

"No, I study the stars actually."

And that's how their friendship started, which leads to this—Porom crying uncontrollably in Gerald's arms, as he slowly rocks her back and forth to calm her down; leaving Gerald to wonder, what could possibly be wrong?  As he continues to comfort Porom, a shooting star flies directly over them; a site which none of them are able to witness as they hold each other tightly in one another's arms.

After paying for their meals and taking a quick trip to the dance floor, Palom and Lyrca make their way out of the restaurant.  Holding hands and sharing thoughts, the two love birds make their way along the main road, taking in the never ending glitz and glamour that has become Mysidia's mainstay.  For those that never sleep, this is the place to be.

At the water fountain, Lyrca stops to greet an old friend of hers, leaving Palom to wander his surroundings.  _Same old, same old around here_, Palom thinks to himself.

Palom's left eye twitches, which is something that usually happens when someone is watching him.  It's an instinct that's grown on him over the past few years.  Palom quickly turns around to see who's there, but no one can be seen.

"Hmm, false alarm?"

Palom's right eye twitches, and with a turn of his head he eyes a black haired woman standing on the other side of the water fountain.  She stares at him with brown eyes that seem piercing, yet mesmerizing at the same time.  Her black, hooded cloak wraps her entire body.  Palom does nothing except stare back at this mystery woman, as if in a trance.  Wondering what to do in this situation, Palom's thoughts are suddenly cut short.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"  Lyrca wraps her arms around one of Palom's.

"Yeah…um…I'm fine," Palom turns back to the water fountain to find that the black haired woman is gone.  _Figures_, Palom thinks to himself.  He turns back to Lyrca and asks, "So, what did you and your friend talk about?"

Lyrca talks as they continue their walk home, leaving the bright lights and spectacles of Mysidia's main quarters behind them.

With his arm around her shoulders, Gerald walks Porom back towards town.  After expending all her tears, Porom has remained very quiet, and Gerald has fallen suit.  But as they reach one of the many guard towers surrounding Mysidia, the silence is broken.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."  Porom's voice is barely audible.

"No need to be sorry," Gerald holds her a little tighter.  "You just needed to get some things off your chest, that's all.  Believe it or not, I know what it's like to grieve tremendously over something.  I don't know if that's any consolation to you, and I don't pretend to know what's wrong in your life, but if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Thank you."  Porom says in a slightly louder tone than before.

As they enter town, Porom breaks away from Gerald's arm and heads down Terrace Way, towards her home, leaving Gerald to watch her walk away.  After a few paces though, Porom does a quick one hundred and eighty degree turn, and looks into Gerald's dark blue gaze.

"You said 'anything' right?"

"Yes I did."  Gerald nods in compliance.

"Are you free to talk tomorrow?"  Porom clasps her hands behind her back while she brushes a tuft of grass with the toe of her right sandal.

"Tomorrow, the day after, whenever you wish," Gerald replies.  "I want to help you through this Porom, and I'll be by your side until you succeed.  But you have to do me a favor though."

"What's that?"  Porom asks with curiosity.

"You have to promise me that you will do the utmost to beat this thing.  Whatever it is that's troubling you."

Porom bows her head down in solemn thought.

"Promise me Porom."

Porom raises her head and creases a small smile, then walks over to Gerald and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"I promise."

Palom and Lyrca end their night in front of the gate of Lyrca's two-story home.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight my dear," Palom leans over to give his loving girlfriend a kiss on the lips.  "I hope you had a good time tonight."

"I most certainly did kind sir," Lyrca giggles then wraps her arms around his neck, and gives Palom a tender kiss back.  "I love you more than anything you know."

"I love you too," Palom says as a sudden thought enters his head.  "What was it you needed to ask me tonight?"

Lyrca smiles as she releases her hold of Palom's neck, then reaches down to hold both his hands.

"Palom, will you marry me?"

Palom's heart seems to skip a few beats as his jaw literally drops to the ground.  Suddenly his mouth feels very dry, while at the same time his palms start sweating.  Total shock is the look that's plastered on Palom's face now.  Never did it ever occur to him that the 'M' word would pop up, not even a thought.

"Sweetheart?  Are you alright?"  The terrified look on Palom's face causes Lyrca to think that maybe this wasn't the moment to ask for his hand in marriage.  "You don't have to answer me right away," she looks down at their clasped hands.  "I just figured, we've been going out for awhile now, and I'm crazy about you and I hope you feel the same about me," Lyrca bites her lip lightly, wondering if she should really be saying these things.  "I just want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Lyrca raises her eyes toward Palom's, whose face seems to have relaxed a little; his mouth only half open now.

"I-I'm sorry Lyrca, you just caught me by surprise, that's all," Palom releases his grip on Lyrca's hands, and wraps his arms around her waist.  "I never thought a woman would be proposing to me, it's a little embarrassing." 

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart."  Lyrca's voice has such sweet sincerity that Palom's heart starts to ache.  And with that, Palom takes a deep breath, and looks Lyrca deep in her eyes.

"I love you with all my heart.  I accept your proposal. I'll marry you."

Lyrca bursts into joyous tears as she leaps into Palom's arms.  Not even a Northern Ogre could break the hold of Palom and his new fiancée.  Lyrca's gleeful exuberance echoes throughout the residential area, as her life now feels complete, in whole-hearted love, and soon to be timeless matrimony; leaving Palom to wonder, _what have I gotten myself into?_


	7. The Elder

Chapter 5:  The Elder

_'Dear Palom and Porom,_

_            I've gone away on a trip and will be back shortly.  In the meantime I've written up a list of things that must be done while I'm away.  Keep up with your studies, as I'll expect to know of your progress when I return.  Please let the other members of the temple know of my whereabouts.  I'm sorry that I can't be specific about where I'm traveling, but I fear that you would follow me if I did.  Please don't fret over this.  I'll be fine.  May the light shine upon you two always._

_                                                                                    Love,_

_                                                                                    Your Elder'_

            "I believe I've packed everything," the Elder says to himself.  "All I need now is the rock."

            The Elder picks up the rock that Palom and Porom had retrieved for him, and stuffs it into a black pouch.  Then the Elder straps a pack around his shoulders, clips a small water jug to his belt, along with a few pouches of magic dust, and laces up his hiking boots.  After laying a small, clay figurine on top of his note to Palom and Porom, the Elder slings his black pouch across his back and leaves the temple.

            As he walks towards the outskirts of Mysidia, the Elder retrieves a compass from his pants pocket.  After opening it, he looks towards the stars in the sky while pulling lightly at his black cloak absentmindedly.  Now with a bearing on his direction, the Elder takes one last look back into town.

            "Your time will come my children."

            With that, the Elder puts his compass back into his pocket and begins his walk down the dark road ahead.  The night is eerie, and the darkness is all encompassing.  The black void surrounding the Elder gives way to the noises of the night.  Yet the Elder is not bothered by it.  He has lived too many years and has survived too many battles to let a little bit of darkness bother him.  

The Elder has fought through countless tribulations in his long life, many of which are unbeknownst to Palom and Porom, such as the loss of his wife and children during the War of Bengis Ridge, a battle that occurred long before the heroes of the Zeromus War were even born.  That was also the same year that he lost his mother to a dreadful plague that spread across half a continent.  Back then the Elder was known as Ghilwood Llewelyn, an amateur archer who, at the time, had no interest in magic and religion.  The War of Bengis Ridge changed his perspective on things.  That time was an enormous chapter in the Elder's long and glorious story; a story that may or may not be told.

            Now the Elder must take on this new chapter in his life.  For contrary to what he had written to Palom and Porom, this outing of his is one fraught with grave peril.  Never has he faced such danger by himself.  But he is headstrong, and the Elder knows that if he doesn't do this, all of the world may suffer for it.  So, with good will and even greater faith, the Elder pushes onward down the dark, and seemingly endless night; a courageous plight, a spotlight on valor, that in the end will cause the Elder to lose his life.


	8. My Ruined Nation

Chapter 6:  My Ruined Nation

            "Forgive me."

            Cecil's whisper to all of his people pierces his soul like a glass shard cut deep into his skin.  His breathing is slightly erratic, his hands shaking, and his eyes blurred with teary shadows; shadows of those who lie dead in the town square, within the hollowed walls of his once glorious castle, and within the hearts of those who remain, whose lives have been tragically altered less than an hour ago.  

As he views his kingdom from his castle's perch, Cecil sees nothing but devastation.  He looks right, and sees a group of workers digging the graves for the funeral processions to be held later.  Cecil looks left, and he eyes many of his soldiers carrying the dead bodies of their brethren into the castle.  Ahead of him, Cecil blankly stares at what's left of the town.  No building was spared; no landmark was left to stand.  A few small fires still burn within the town, as some of its people try desperately to put them out.  With cheeks of tears, Cecil turns to his castle—his home—which is nothing more than broken stone and mortar that stands on a foundation that he hoped would last forever.   His town, his castle, his kingdom, that he worked tirelessly to build, now lies in ruin on this very cold night.

            "Forgive me."

            As Cecil closes his eyes in dismay, a pair of arms embraces him warmly from behind.

            "It's not your fault," Rosa's voice is soft and sincere, her cheek is pressed against his back.  "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

            "Then who is to blame?"

            "No one is," Rosa's hold on Cecil tightens, her hands pressed against the cold steel of Cecil's breastplate.  "This attack could not have been foreseen.  Whoever planned this invasion hit us when we were most vulnerable.  There was no way to avoid it."

            The crease in Cecil's brow grows intensely as his thoughts run wild.

            "If I had acted quicker, gotten the soldiers into town faster, if I had been a better king—"

            "Stop it Cecil!"  Rosa turns Cecil around to face her. 

"That's enough!  No one blames you.  You've made this kingdom into the greatest nation on the planet; everyone knows it.  But the world has seen such peace and prosperity for so long that something like this was probably inevitable.  If it didn't happen here it was going to happen someplace else; maybe Fabul or Eblana or Toroia; and who knows, maybe they're next," Rosa caresses Cecil's cheek with the soft palm of her hand.  "It's alright to grieve for your losses, but you can't just break apart when you're kingdom needs you the most.  Everyone's going to be looking to you for guidance, for help, and you need to stand strong to give them that.  You rebuilt this kingdom all those years ago and you can do it again.  The worst thing you can do now is to give up on yourself," Rosa's eyes begin to water.  "You are a better king than all those that came before you, and you can do this."

            Cecil remembers those days after the war, after he was elected to the throne, how much work was put into rebuilding and how proud he was when it was completed.  There was a great celebration and a glorious parade with streamers and musicians, acrobats and magicians.  And now, with the help of Rosa's words, Cecil realizes that those days could be a reality once more.  With that one thought now etched forever in his mind, Cecil gives his loving wife a kiss and a "thank you."

            "How are the children doing?"  Cecil releases his hold on Rosa and leads her down the castle's main balcony.

            "They're fine.  They're surprisingly strong-minded for their ages.  Especially Puvol.  He wanted eagerly to see what had happened out here," Rosa takes a quick scan of the area before she follows her husband through the open doors leading into the castle. "You know how curious the little one can be."

            "He's a lot stronger than I was when I was his age," Cecil and Rosa make their way down the stairs leading to the main hall.  "Back then I had this little wooden doll that I carried around to keep me safe.  Violence frightened me to the point where I would scream and run home to my mother."  Cecil hears Rosa giggle softly and gives her a stern side-glance.

            "I'm sorry dear, it's just a little hard to imagine," Rosa's lips are pressed tightly to keep her from laughing out loud.  "It's a very cute story."

            "I wanted it to sound serious."

            "Well you failed."  Another smile creases Rosa's lips.  

Just as they enter the main hall, Rosa grabs Cecil's arm to lead him to the south wing of the castle. 

            "What's wrong?" Cecil asks.

            "The council has gathered."

            "Wonderful."  Cecil's voice lacks any enthusiasm whatsoever.  

            With that said, Baron's King and Queen head for their inevitable meeting with the twelve members of Baron's High Council to determine what needs to be done next.

            "Nanny, when can I go outside?"  Puvol tugs at Nanny's dusty, white apron.

            "When your mother says you can little one," Nanny continues to straighten up Cecil and Rosa's chambers.  "Why don't you snack on those white truffles I gave you?"

            "I ate ten of them already," Puvol lets out a loud and disgusting burp, and then sits down on one of the chamber's velvet cushioned chairs.  "I don't see why Jero and Sylia got to go out.  I can take care of myself you know."

            "I know my prince.  It's just that your mother loves you deeply and she just wants to make sure you stay safe."

            "Does that mean she doesn't love Sylia and Jero?"  Puvol's head tilts in contemplation.

            "No of course not.  It just means that they're old enough to take better care of themselves."  After helping to raise all three Harvey children from the days of their births until now, Nanny has had the most trouble dealing with the youngest.  Puvol's always full of questions and curiosities that sometimes made Nanny wonder if Puvol really wanted to know the answers, or if he's asking questions just to annoy people.  In any case, she always figured he was the cause of all her gray hairs.

            "How old is old enough Nanny?"  Puvol starts to toss a white truffle into the air.

            "When your mother says your old enough little one."

            "Sounds like I should be asking mommy these questions then."

            Nanny's patience starts to wear very thin.

            "I think maybe you should ask your mother those questions my dear, but until then you need to stay in this room."

            "Shoots!"  Puvol lets out another burp that seems to echo in the chamber.

            "Prince Puvol!"  Nanny scolds.

            "Jeez Nanny, that wasn't even as good as the first one.  Tastes a lot better going down."   Puvol rips out another reverberating burp.

            A knock on the chamber door startles Nanny.  After quickly getting her bearings down she opens the door.  On the other side stands one of the castle's many maids holding a mop and bucket.  Puvol glances at the very pretty maid, storing her profile in his head—average height, a little on the lithe side, brown eyes, and straight, black hair tied into a ponytail with a purple ribbon.  Her hair flows all the way down to the backs of her knees giving Puvol the urge to go over and pull on it.  Her maids' outfit looked a little tight, accentuating her form, and her face was beautiful in Puvol's eyes, which quickly trails down to her right middle finger.  The maid wears a beautiful diamond ring shaped like a star that glitters brightly with the lights in the hall.  Nanny and the maid start to engage in conversation, their voices too soft for Puvol's attentive ears.  

            Then Puvol's face lights up with an idea.  Eyeing a small trash bin in the far corner of the room, Puvol begins to conjure up a spell.  Whispering quietly and as quickly as possible, Puvol raises his left arm and points his index finger towards the trash bin.  A small glitter of light begins to form around his finger, and with one last word the trash bin catches fire.  Puvol smiles at his success then quickly wipes that smile away and turns towards Nanny.

            "Fire," says Puvol, but Nanny doesn't hear him.  Puvol quickly clears his throat, takes in a deep breathe and yells, "FIRE!"

            Puvol's yell causes Nanny to jump and scream in fright.  Thinking it's another one of Prince Puvol's pranks; she turns around ready to point her finger at him.  Instead, Nanny gets an eyeful of gray smoke.

            "Oh my goodness!"  Nanny and the young maid quickly leap towards the trash bin to extinguish the fire, leaving Puvol free and clear to walk out the chamber door.  He runs all the way to the end of the hall, looking back only once to see if he was being followed.  After hearing Nanny's shrill scream echo through the hall, Puvol smiles at his accomplishment and heads off on his little exploring expedition. 

            The council meeting was fairly short due in large part to Cecil's insistence that now was not the time to argue about blame, and who could have been behind the invasion.  Now was the time to help as many people as possible, to prepare for a mass burial, and then begin the rebuilding process.  

Explanations as to why the reinforcements were so late and few was the main topic of discussion though.  Kain, who was located at the western outpost when the attack occurred, reported all three military outposts being hit by small groups of enemy units just minutes before the main strike on the town.  The enemies main focus were the airships, particularly the ones already in the air.  With those particular airships out of commission there was no way to warn Baron of the attack.  

With the clouded skies hovering over most of the continent, the outposts were taken completely by surprise by the air raid.  Though human casualties weren't as great, three quarters of the airship strike force were demolished; but the thing that was most disturbing to everyone in the meeting was the fact that a dragon was present at every outpost.  

This information left many questions to be thrown onto the table.  _Is this the sign of a mass resurgence of dragons in the world?  Why are they attacking people and cities?  And is someone leading these dragons?_  Kain attempted to answer this last question.  

"All the attacks that occurred not only involved dragons, but imps as well," he said.  "Always the followers and never the leaders, imps never take on such enormous tasks without someone ordering them to."  

That logic seemed very feasible to everyone at the meeting, but with no real answers to any of their questions, the meeting was adjourned.

After leaving the south wing, Cecil, Rosa, Rydia, and Kain make their way through the castle toward the main gate.

"Rydia, I've been wondering something," Cecil turns to his long time friend.  "That call spell you had cast didn't look the same."

"You mean Bahamut?"

"Yeah," Rosa remarks.  "It looked a lot bigger and more powerful than the one we're used to seeing."

"Well over the years my magical powers have grown and evolved, and in the process so have the creatures that I 'call' to battle."

"That will be very useful in the battles to come," Kain says, his armor clinking and clanging with his movements.  "I fear that all the world may be in very grave danger."

"So do I."  Agrees Rosa.

"Me…too," Cecil trails off a bit as he eyes one of his lieutenants rushing towards the four of them from the main castle gate.  "This can't be good."

"My liege," says the exasperated soldier.  "An airship bearing the crest of Fabul has landed in very bad condition just outside the castle walls."

"Let's go people."  Cecil orders as the four heroes make their way outside the castle.

It was a wonder that the airship didn't crash with all the damage it has sustained.  One of the masts had been completely blown apart, two of the six propellers were bent out of shape, the hull was full of gaping holes, and the deck suffered severe breakage down the middle.  Many of the sixteen-member crew is injured while a few others lay dead with their bodies strewn about the ship. 

"Get these men some medical attention at once."  Cecil points to a few of the white mages standing on the side.  With a quick bow to their King, the mages immediately run to the attention of the wounded.

"It's amazing that this ship made it all the way here," Kain runs his hand across the beaten hull of the airship.  "If Cid were here, he would be proud."

"Boasting more like."  Says Rosa as she helps a crippled soldier down the ships' ramp.  Rydia also lends a hand to the weakened.

Cecil eyes one of the ships' men, an ensign, unharmed, carrying a fellow soldier in his arms.  The unhurt man lays his comrade on the ground, and with his hand, closes the lifeless eyes of his fallen 'brother.'  Cecil kneels down and lays his right hand on the warrior's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."  Cecil's words are filled with the knowledge of what it feels like to see soldiers fall in battle.

"It's not as bad as it is in Fabul."  Sniffles follow the man's words.

"What happened?"  Asks Cecil softly.

"We were attacked by a large strike force during the mid morning," the ensign's words are shakily spoken through bouts of tears. "It was a larger force than I have ever seen in my life.  Fabul was in the middle of a festival when the attack came.  Everyone was taken completely off guard."

Rosa, Rydia, and Kain gather around to hear the story.

"We lost three divisions of our military in the first wave," The soldier continues.  "That only took about twenty seconds.  They came in from the south like a wild storm that was to consume our entire kingdom.  There were so many shadows on the ground you would have thought it was night. We tried as quickly as we could to get as many of the townspeople to the castle as possible, but the enemy blanketed the path with walls of fire," The soldier's hands begin to shake as he replays the events in his mind.  "I've never heard so many screams, so many dreadful screams."

"Calm down my friend.  We'll help you in any way we can."  Kain tries his best to be comforting.

"I've never seen so many dragons before," whispers the soldier.  "So many."

Cecil leans in towards the soldier's ear to whisper back to him.

"How many?"

"Twelve."

Cecil, Rosa, Rydia, and Kain all look at each other, as if asking one another subliminally, 'What are we going to do?'

"Did you say twelve dragons soldier?"  Kain hopes that his ears failed him the first time.

"I counted twelve as we left Fabul behind.  There could have been more, but I'm positive that there were at least twelve of them," The ensign presses his hand against the chest of his fallen friend, hoping upon hope to feel a heartbeat.  "Most of the dragons went for the airships first.  Our airship was located in the back of the castle for maintenance when the attack occurred."

"What about King Folster and Queen Saliana?"  Cecil asks.

"I don't know what's happened to the royal family," says the broken soldier.  "The only one I know of who was alive when we took off was Master Yang.  He was the one who told us to come here for help."

"Alright, that's enough for now," Cecil gets to his feet.  "You and your men will stay here, and your fallen comrades shall receive a proper military burial."

Cecil walks along a brick path leading to the castle square, his wife and friends walking by his side.

"So we weren't the ones hit first."  Rosa says.

"Nor were we hit the hardest."  Kain adds.

"Two of the three strongest kingdoms in the world have fallen," Cecil ponders this thought.  "Who would have such power to be able to do this in less than a day?  Who would have the leadership to control all these dragons and beasts that lay waste to our nations?"  Cecil looks to the southern horizon with another thought. 

"Rydia?"

"I know Cecil," Rydia follows Cecil's gaze.  "As soon as my airship passes inspection I'm going back to Eblana.  Hopefully they haven't been hit yet."

"Take whatever provisions that you need," Rosa says to Rydia.  "And if this enemy hasn't attacked Eblana yet, you can now prepare for it since you know what to expect."

Rydia nods in agreement.

Cecil turns his attention to the injured soldiers from Fabul.

"I'm going to Fabul."  He says.

"Do you think that's wise Cecil?"  Kain asks.

"There must be a reason why Fabul was hit harder than us, and Yang did send these men to ask for our assistance," Cecil looks to Rosa.  "Keep watch over the children.  I don't want them to know any more than what they already know."

Rosa looks down and just nods.  The look in Cecil's eyes reminds her of those days passed that used to be nothing more than memories.  She knows all too well that with his high position, she could lose Cecil at any moment.  Her heart has felt the burden of war before, and now it seems to have started all over again.

Cecil turns his eyes to his Captain of the Guards.

"Kain, I want you to stay here and fortify the castle as best you can.  I want all the townspeople to stay within the perimeters of the castle.  I don't want any of them in the town until further notice.  We can't risk being attacked again until we know what's going on."

"As you wish my friend."  Kain bows to his king, his blonde hair blowing in the cool breeze.

A flock of birds fly overhead, toward the direction where the sun will begin to rise over the eastern horizon many hours from now, giving to light the devastation that the night's business has left behind.  

"My nation," Cecil whispers.  His eyes gaze upon the broken and tattered fields of Baron, upon the splintered ruins of the town, and to the castle surrounding him, which, all encompassing, shall remember the night when the greatest kingdom in the world, fell before the rising of the sun.


	9. Yang of Fabul

Chapter 7:  Devastated Fabul

The tanned, bald man sifts through the enormous amount of rubble that used to be his bedroom chambers.  A bookshelf broken into numerous shards of wood, books strewn across the littered floor ('Our History' by Haris Ment; 'Days I Have Seen' by Meredith Mingleton…); an antique lamp dating back hundreds of years, costing a fortune, shattered a thousand times over; the large oak bed, with silk shades draped around the overhang, split in two by a large chunk of stone from the ceiling, the two pieces poking out at a forty-five degree angle making a 'V' formation; the body-length mirror, so clear in its reflection, now nothing more than splintered glass reflecting a hundred different images at once.

The tanned man looks to the afternoon sky—so bright, so clear (so misleading)—the north wind blowing lightly, coolly.  That tremendous, gaping hole where the ceiling used to be is a sample of the sheer destruction the rest of the castle, the rest of the town has been through.  The hole looks to the man like a wide-open mouth with jagged stone teeth, speaking to him of death and _chaos_, laughing hysterically and looking down on him (you never had a chance baldy, none of you…surprise!).  The sun beams down through the ugly lips of the stone orifice with intense heat, baking the room with searing light.

"Everything's gone isn't it?"  The voice enters through the broken doorway leading into the bedroom; a voice filled with depression and a bit of contempt.

"Yes," The bald man picks a painting up from a heap of rocks and debris.  "All of it."

The scenic view in the painting depicts a vast meadow of yellow, red and violet flowers, some of the petals supposedly blowing in the wind.  In the distance, a small mountain range can be seen with a waterfall running from it.  The sun, peeking through a couple of tiny clouds, gives off a sort of silhouette look to the mountainside, its profile looking somewhat like a man's.  Just below the waterfall, a white mist and tiny splashes of water can be seen above the horizon of meadows (perhaps the waterfall empties into a huge lake with clear, sparkling water with tiny fishes, and a small rainbow arching through the cool, misty air).  His hand softly treads over the thin, painted material, a long rip cutting through it from one corner to another.  _I'd like to be there right now_, he thinks.  _Looks like heaven_.

The man turns to face his wife and says, "How does Debin's room look?"

She takes a couple steps towards him, bends down, and picks up one of the tattered books—her book—'Times of Trouble' by Breth Yeager.  The subtitle reads 'Hearts of Pain'.  

"It's not as bad as this, but still…" She holds back a couple of tears with a few sniffles, using her index finger to lightly massage her nose.  "What do we do now Yang?"  Her voice is shaky, ready to break at any moment into a burst of running water and heartbreaking sobs.  She covers her mouth with one hand to stifle her cries, dropping the book in the process; its back cover breaking off as it hits the floor.

Yang walks over to his wife and wraps his arms around her shoulders, her face pressing softly against the skin of his bare chest, her deep purple hair caressing his cheeks.

"We can rebuild this Dresia, I promise you that.  At least we're still alive.  That's more than what many of the others can say."

--Over two hundred others actually.  

During the Great Festival of the Minorus—a celebration of the birth of the first king of Fabul—the attack occurred.  An enormous swarm of flying beasts came, riding on a wave of black clouds that enveloped the clear, blue sky that had graced Fabul on its day of festivities.  It was the quickest strike by any enemy Yang had ever seen.  Their speed was incredible; their cries were terrifying.  Within minutes, the entire province was bathed in a rolling firewall that forced its way through the town, wiping out everything in its path.  The cause—a fleet of sixteen red dragons lined up in formation about a hundred yards in the sky.  Their movements were in sync.  The timing of their attack was perfect.  Side by side, the dragons spewed out a stream of flames that, when hitting the ground below, combined to form a tidal wave of fire.  Many of the townspeople were engulfed instantly by the hellish burn of the fires that swept across the land, like that of a brutal storm.  Their screams were deafening, their pains were heart wrenching.  As the dragons split up to continue their rampage, a ground attack began with an army of imps and beasts of all natures.  Houses exploded, airships were ripped to shreds; the annual carnival that had brought joy to hundreds, young and old, was turned into a bloodbath of _chaos_.  A few of the airships tried to make an escape, but most were caught within the crossfire of flames.

Yang was looking upon the festival from the castle when the attack occurred.  As the king's military advisor and head of the army's main division, Yang led his men on to battle.  With little battle experience, both physically and emotionally, the army fell quickly to the enemy horde.  Young men who were anxious to get their first taste of war never lived to see their next; their blood battered bodies scattered across the plains, across the town; their weapons, unused and clean accept for a few red stains from their owners bodies, lying useless on the ground. 

Useless, hopeless—_chaos_.

Yang tried his best to get a hold on the situation, but everything was moving at such a rapid pace, flying fast with blinding speed, that nothing could be done to stop the madness.  The only thing he could do was to have one of his airships take flight towards Baron to warn them.  Help from them would be of little consequence with the speedy destruction going on around him.  Fortunately that airship would make it through the onslaught, though it looked to be badly damaged.

Evacuation procedures for the town were implemented, but that really didn't matter.  By the time the worst was over, three quarters of the population were massacred.  The town was painted red, and the streets were decorated with the bodies of women, and small children wearing paper festival hats draped in blood.

The attack took approximately fifteen minutes, and as quickly as the enemy attack came, they left, taking with them the black clouds that shadowed the area; and leaving the now blue sky to look with horror at what it had missed, at what it was blinded from.  A horrendous cackle could be heard echoing throughout the land, along with one terrifying word—_chaos_.  _Chaos_ was what this was, what this town and nation had been through.  _Chaos_ is what took the lives of those in the streets whose bodies now bathe in the warmth of the sun.

After the attack, the king of Fabul—Folster Beine—ordered that whoever was left alive was to gather whatever personal belongings needed, and head off to the fallback area known as Cardigan—a small unpopulated village at the base of the northern mountains.  Considering the amount of casualties suffered, Cardigan would be big enough to house those that have survived.

"Gather what you need, just the bare essentials," Yang tells his wife.  "I'll go check on Debin."  Yang leaves Dresia to pack and heads out the door and across the hall to see his sixteen-year-old son.

As he walks through the disheveled doorway of Debin's bedroom, Yang sees his only child huddled in the corner, knees against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, and head down in sorrowed thought.  Yang slowly walks towards Debin, taking a few casual looks about the room in the process—broken toys, scattered books, bricks and stone everywhere.  _At least the ceiling's intact_, Yang thinks.  Yang bends down behind his son and puts a hand on Debin's shoulder.

Debin is a very well mannered teen—very disciplined and extremely studious.  The discipline is learned from his father, who has been training his son in the world of martial arts, while his studious nature is from his mother's side, always reading books and learning new things.  Lately, with his hormones kicking into high gear, Debin has started to experiment with being a teenager.  Beginning to show the masculine features of his father, the handsome young boy likes to flirt with the young maidens of the town; breaking a few hearts in the process.  It was a small sense of power for him, to be able to manipulate women's emotions the way he did, but in the end the discipline which he's been brought up with would take over, and he would make amends with those that he's hurt.  

Yet despite his recent entanglements with women, he still manages to attract them wherever he goes, basking in compliments and flirtations.  _If he were a prince, things would be even worse_, Yang would always think; and a prince he could have been.

Yang was another player in the Zeromus War, brought together with Cecil during one of his training trips up the trails of Mount Hobs to the northwest.  Yang was the current Prince of Fabul at the time, though that title was completely lost on him—he never really cared for it.  He befriended Cecil and his entourage and accompanied them through their quest to save the world from tyranny.  Yang's martial arts expertise was of great significance, and he helped to make a difference during the war.  Yang and Dresia didn't know it, but while Yang was off to save the world, Dresia was pregnant with their first child.  Debin was born about eight months later.

After peace had settled throughout the world, Yang's father—the king—had fallen gravely ill with a disease known as pherdinchidus.  It attacks the immune system and renders a person's limbs virtually useless, killing the senses, and eventually stopping the synapses in the brain from communicating, leaving that person to live the rest of his/her life as a vegetable.  

Various spells and potions were used to try and slow down the process, but a year later, Yang's father lost his battle with the incurable disease.  The entire nation grieved for their loss, and they sent their king off with a heartfelt funeral that everyone attended.  In complete distraught over the death of his father, Yang secluded himself within the castle walls, spending his time with old memories of Fabul's late king and contemplating his future.  

A few weeks later, the nation was looking to crown the new King of Fabul—Yang.  He had other ideas though.  Yang never felt comfortable with the royalty status that he inherited, and found it more appealing to serve with the military instead.  Therefore, he handed the crown down to his father's most trusted advisor, Sir Folster Beine.

Sir Folster, originally from Baron, served in Fabul's military for fifteen years, starting at the age of twenty.  After moving up the ranks and being decorated with Fabul's highest honor—The Triple Star—Folster was first knighted, and then appointed to the king's council as his military advisor.  While in that position, Folster garnered much praise and high acclaim, increasing his appeal to the people of the town, and also to the fellow members of the council.  During this time, Folster married his long time girlfriend, Saliana Westbrook—a young woman he met while shopping in the local clothing store.  Two years later, the Zeromus War would begin, and Folster would take control of the situation, helping Fabul to survive the ordeal.

Yang's offering of the crown came as a complete shock to Sir Folster, though he was well aware of Yang's distaste for his royal position.

"This kingdom will do better with you as its head," Yang said to Folster one day.  "If you allow me to take your place as military advisor, I shall give you the crown of Fabul."

The offer was something he could hardly pass up.  Folster had so much he wanted for Fabul and its people, and he saw the opportunity to do all those things.  The townspeople didn't seem to mind as Folster's popularity was greatly known and heralded.  After the past seventeen years, Yang has not felt one tinge of regret for what he did.  _I did it for the good of the nation_, he would keep telling himself, _and for the greater good of my family_.  Now is when his family needs him most.

"You alright Deb?"

"I guess so."  The young boy's voice is barely audible.

Yang picks up a broken toy soldier from the littered ground.  It holds aloft a flag that's painted over with the white and crimson colors of Fabul's Royal Banner, probably by Debin.  The green little man was missing its left leg and right foot—another casualty of war.  In a way, the toy soldier looked a little more heroic to Yang, that even with such crippling injuries the soldier still has the strength and pride to lift his countries flag high in the air, to unite his country and spite his enemies.  (We will not fall!  We are one!)

"We'll be alright son.  We will rebuild.  And everything that you've lost today will be given back to you, I promise."

"Actually dad, I'd give it all up just to have everything back to normal again."

Yang smiles and wraps his arms around his son.

"I'm so proud of you for your strength, courage, and understanding.  I know you'll grow up to be a great man, and I'm so happy to be able to call you my son."

"Gee dad, you don't have to get all mushy and stuff.  That's for mom to do."

"No son, that goes for everyone, including fathers."  Yang gives Debin a kiss, and then rubs his knuckles into his son's head.

"Hey, knock it off dad."  The two share a hearty laugh.

"Ok, let's start packing up some things for our trip to Cardigan."  Yang picks Debin up off the ground and the father and son duo begin their packing.

Interlude 

"What do you think about this?"  Porom holds a silk, cream-colored blouse against her chest, spreading it out for Gerald to assess his opinion.

            "That's a great color for you Porom," Gerald takes a bite out of a bread stick that was leftover from their breakfast at the Great Garrison Restaurant.  "How about this?"  Gerald grabs a large straw hat from a stand and puts it on Porom's head.  The pointy hat slips down her head and covers her eyes, the floppy brim sagging around her ears.  Gerald laughs out loud.

            "That's not funny you know."  Porom says in a not so serious way.

            Porom takes the hat off preparing to slap Gerald with it, but instead her eyes are greeted to the sight of a half a dozen red roses; their bulbs have yet to bloom.  Her eyes widen in surprise as she observes the beautiful flowers held before her, with their soft petals and drops of dew.  She looks to Gerald whose face is lit with a sly grin.

            "What's this?"  She asks.

            "Well, most people call them flowers.  I've heard of other terms like 'make-up roses'…I don't think it qualifies in this case, but you can call them whatever you want."

            "That's not what I meant silly," Porom takes the roses from Gerald's hand and smells their sweet aroma.  "What are they for?"

            "They're just pretty roses for a pretty lady," Gerald finishes off the last of his bread stick then dusts his hands off.  "I saw them, and I just thought you'd look good holding them."

            Porom blushes a bright red, almost as red as the roses in her hands, then eyes him questionably.  

"Where'd you get these from?  I didn't see you holding them all this time."

            "Now, now.  If I told you how I did it, I won't be able to do it again."

            Porom's brown eyes begin to water just slightly.  

"You're welcome to do it anytime you like."

They both share a warm smile, and exit Miss Wilhemma's Fashion Center.  As they continue down Mysidia's main quarters, Porom wraps an arm around one of Gerald's and leans up against him.  She can feel the intense beats of her fragile heart, wondering if it would burst if Gerald decided to shy away from her advances, which in its own right, took a lot of confidence to perform considering that she hasn't had much confidence in herself for many years now.  But Gerald doesn't seem to mind.  As a matter of fact, he puts his free hand over her arm and holds it securely to his.  He continues to talk about things like the stars and planet alignments, but it doesn't matter to Porom what he was talking about.  Because right now she was enraptured and enveloped in her own world of bliss and new found joy; at this very moment, everything is right in her life—every part of her being, every essence of her soul, every growing heartbeat…

…at this very moment.

Palom walks along Portege Avenue, heading home after a morning meal with Lyrca and her family to celebrate their recent engagement.  The unending hugs and kisses from Lyrca's mother and the excruciatingly painful handshakes from her father were almost unbearable.  Lyrca's little siblings, six in all, made a ring around Palom and danced around him until he was dizzy and continued long after he was annoyed.

"I hope Lyrca's not looking forward to having any of those anytime soon,"  Palom rubs the palm of his right hand with his left, aching from her father's ogre-like grip.  "The man has calluses that could sandpaper an entire tree."  

A group of school children run past Palom, backpacks bouncing up and about on their backs like a man on a rampaging horse.  

"Those kids could have just said congratulations and went on their merry way.  They didn't have to form a ring around me and…"  A sudden realization occurs to him.  "A ring.  I have to find her a wedding ring.  Great."

Palom walks through the gates leading to the Hall of Enlightenment, and to the cottage that he and Porom share.  He stops to look up at the sky, perhaps looking to some higher power, wondering what his life is going to be like after he and Lyrca are married.  Those thoughts never crossed his mind before…ever.  

Marriage was never a subject Palom wanted to get into, citing that getting into a girl's pants was a more interesting topic to discuss.  Of course this information would only be shared by a group of guys who frequented the local tavern with Palom often.  It comes as no surprise that not a single one of them have had sex before, but no one needed to know that.  From their outdoor seating, Palom and his friends would grade each woman that passed by, sometimes whistling their approval.  The only thing it got them was some stern side-glances, and the occasional slap to the cheek.  A woman even came up to one of Palom's buddies and socked him clean up the jaw, sending one of his teeth flying through the air.  There were no hard feelings between the two, though Palom's friend couldn't feel his jaw at all for a while.  He said "it was an honor to feel the skin of one so beautiful 'caressing' his own."  

_Ah the stories_, Palom thinks to himself.  _Does that mean when I get married, all that's going to change?_  

(Of course it does!  Do you really think she's going to let you go gallivanting about with your friends while she stays at home cooking, and cleaning, and looking after your three or four children, and tending the garden, and doing the shopping, all the while waiting for you to come home late at night for some sweet loving, and instead you fall fast asleep once your head hits the pillow 'cause you're drunk?  Are you insane?  Wake up boy!)

"Whoa Palom," he says to himself.  "This is why you don't think about marriage.  Just calm down.  You just need to do something to take your mind off of this."

Palom walks through the door of the Hall of Enlightenment and is greeted by three of the Elder's priests.  The looks on their faces couldn't have been graver.  Palom just stares at them for what seems like ages; the hall is deeply silent.  After a few more tense moments of silence, Palom opens his mouth to speak.

"What's up?"

End of Interlude 

"There aren't any airships left, so we're going to have to hike to Cardigan," Yang addresses about twenty-five townspeople, including his wife and son, about their situation.  "The Royal Family and their entourage have already left for the village, along with sixty other townsfolk.  So we're the last to leave what was once our home," Yang looks over the surrounding areas, and if he had seen what Baron looks like now, he would have said Fabul looked just like it, or even worse.  "I want everyone to take a good look around."

Hesitantly, everyone surveys their distraught homeland—broken buildings, battered airships—and among the chaotic scene are two large, wooden crosses.  Buried beneath them are the bodies of the dead, carefully laid side by side in a mass burial.  This grave was the first order of business acknowledged by King Folster.  There was to be no cleaning up of anything.  Fabul was listed as a disaster area and a lost cause.  Therefore, the dead were to be taken care of immediately, with the names of everyone who lost their lives to the horrible devastation that swept through their kingdom, carved into the two crosses.  

(we will not fall!)  

The townspeople look on with teary eyes and sunburned skin; their hands clutching onto bags and satchels and packs, filled with whatever belongings they could fit into them.  

(we are one!)

"Take a good look," Yang continues his speech.  "Because this evil that has taken away everything we hold dear, destroyed many whom we've come to love and cherish, it cannot steal our hearts, our hope, our resolve.  Yes, we will all grieve.  (we will not fall!)  But to grieve is to find strength.  For where there's strength within our hearts, within our spirit, there's also hope.  And from hope do we build a village; a village to a town; a town to an empire,  (we are one!) like our ancestors before us once did.  They built this kingdom with their bare hands from the ground up.  I guess in a sense, this was never truly our kingdom.  Now it's time for us to build a kingdom that we can call our very own—a stronger kingdom, a better world.  Make no mistake about it my friends.  This is the saddest and most devastating event to ever occur within our hollowed walls, but we will be better for it.  'We' is the word.  (We will not fall!  We are one!)  For _we_ have walked away from this horror, _we_ will rebuild our lives, _we_ will create our kingdom anew, and _we_ will laugh at this enemy, this evil that thought it their business to crush our mighty empire!  And _we_ will fight back; for our spirit, for our children, and for Fabul!"

The cheer from this congregation of townspeople is like the mighty roar of a hundred.  With fists raised in the air in defiance to the carnage surrounding them, the small crowd lets out an enormous battle cry, with Yang looking on with intense eyes and an even stronger will than he has ever felt before in his life.


	10. Separate Ways

Chapter 8:  Separate Ways

            "What happened here Nanny?"

            "I'm sorry my lady," Nanny continues to clean the soot off of one of the dressers in the chamber.  "There was a small fire in the trash bin, and while I was trying to put it out, Prince Puvol ran off."

            Rosa sighs knowing full well that the cause of the fire was her own little son.  _That little rascal_, she thinks to herself.

            "Well do you know where my other children are?"

            "They went to look for Puvol after I told them what had happened."  Nanny picks up her broom and starts sweeping the floor.

            "Alright, well I'm going to look for my little troublemaker," Rosa says.  "If you happen to come across him, make sure to tie him tightly to my bedpost and tell him his angry mother's on her way with a really big stick."

            Nanny just smiles as Rosa takes off to look for her sneaky son.

            "An escort really isn't necessary Cecil," says Rydia.  "Your resources are depleted as is.  If Baron is attacked again, you will be sorely pressed."

            "I realize that," Cecil observes the three airships preparing for takeoff; two bearing the crest of Baron while the third bears the crest of Eblana.  "But I have this feeling that another assault on Baron won't occur.  Don't ask me how I know that though."

            Many of Baron's soldiers make their way up the ramps of the airships with supplies and weapons.  A captain can be heard barking orders to his men as the airship propellers begin to warm up.  "Let's go men! Double time!"

            "Well, I guess I'm off."  Rydia gives Cecil a hug, standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck; then turns to board her airship.  Her sparkling green dress flows slightly with the wind, as does her silky smooth hair.  As she reaches the deck, the boarding ramp retracts and the propellers come into motion.  Rydia walks to the edge of the deck and waves to Cecil as her airship begins to lift off the ground.  Cecil waves back, a slight smile on his face.  In their minds, they know that the road ahead will be precarious.  In their hearts, they hope that they'll soon see each other again.

            As the three airships make their way toward the southern horizon, Cecil whispers a short prayer for his men, and for his friend.

            "Your flagship is ready Cecil," Kain says as he makes his way to his king's side.  "Do you think Eblana's been hit too?"

            "It's anyone's guess right now my friend," Cecil turns to Kain with his hand held out.  "I entrust my kingdom to you."

            Kain reaches out and shakes Cecil's hand.

            "Are you sure about this Cecil?  Maybe I should go to Fabul in your stead."

            Cecil places his other hand on Kain's shoulder.

            "I need to see the damage for myself and talk to King Folster about the situation."  Cecil turns his attention to a large clearing to the east, watching as his soldiers board his flagship to make preparations for takeoff.  The enormous sails ripple and sway with the breeze as a flock of birds begin to circle overhead.  

Cecil and Kain make their way to the oversized airship, neither of them saying a word.  Across the burnt out meadows and charred stone, both of these men's hearts have taken a tumble to the depths of despair and depression.  A nation, a world, that they helped to build, is now being torn apart at the seams.  The cause of which is deadly and unknown.  

Heroes these men once were, in a time when no one wanted to be a hero.  In a time when evil ambitions reigned supreme, and the world was gripped in fear and terror, Cecil and Kain helped to stem the tide of the maleficent; holding in their hands the true power of good and all that it is; all that is pure and all that is righteous.

The attack on Baron was a reminder to Cecil, that though peace and prosperity have flourished for over a decade, all good things must come to an end; and an explosive one at that.

As Cecil makes his way up the ramp way leading to the main deck of his flagship, his mind sifts through the faces and places that his eyes have held within them over the years.  Now, all of a sudden, a sea of flames and thick smoke surrounds them.  Their tear filled eyes speak volumes, their voices cry painfully for help.  The clouded expanse of the sky is like a dark void preparing to suck everyone's soul into its black belly.  The entire planet is seized within a terrifying wave of blood and carnage, hate and destruction.  The horrid image fades away from Cecil's mind, and in his thoughts, he swears upon everything that he is, everything he holds dear, that in the end, the world will live in peace once again. 

"I say we tie him to a bedpost and hit him with a big stick," Jero follows his sister's pace as they search for Puvol.  "What do you think Syl?"

"I'm thinking that we've searched all his usual hiding places and that we should start looking outside," Sylia walks in the direction of the castle's back entrance.  "Puvol was anxious to see what was going on outside, so that's probably where he went."

"Well good luck to us trying to find the brat out there."  Jero says sarcastically (the little twerp).

The two Harvey children exit the castle from the back and begin their search through the many small buildings scattered across the large field.  Sylia starts at the Medical Facility, where the seriously injured and infirmed are taken for extensive care and treatment.  Jero walks towards one of the many weapons depots that carry everything from spears to swords to specialized weapons such as a Manhunter Axe, which can only be used by the strongest of Baron's soldiers due to its enormous weight.  After checking one depot, Jero heads to another until all three are searched, then he heads for the Magicians Cottage—a small building for white magicians who seek to obtain higher learning.  It's here where the most advanced magic users can learn the most powerful white magic spells.  

Baron is blessed to have two of the strongest white magicians in the world today teaching in the cottage, the first being Queen Rosa.  The second is a seventy-five year old man by the name of Parius Varimortem.  He came from the town of Agart, located on a little island southwest of Mysidia.  Parius was very instrumental in protecting the town during the Zeromus War, and then afterwards used his magic abilities to help heal and cure over half of the ailing townspeople.  He was given the Medal of Valor by the town's mayor and a plaque to acknowledge his good deeds.  A few of those Parius had helped were from Baron, and his story eventually fell to the ears of Rosa who, at the time, was helping to establish her White Magic Academy.  Without hesitation, Rosa sent a message to Parius asking him to join her Academy as one of its teachers.  Parius didn't need to be asked twice as he quickly packed his things, said goodbye to his family and friends, and left to join the Academy.

Jero takes a quick peek into the Magicians Cottage through one of the open windows.  Parius is reading to a few of his students who listen very intently to their professor's words, but no sign of Puvol.

"Not even the little brat would disturb Parius while he was in the middle of a lesson."  Jero says to himself.  And with that, Jero leaves the grounds of the cottage to continue his search.  After rounding a corner of the Food Depository, Jero finds Sylia hunched over behind a stack of wood, looking as if she's spying on someone.

"Sylia?"

Sylia jerks her head towards him and flips her index finger in front of her closed lips, then gestures to Jero to come toward her.  Walking softly and silently, Jero makes his way to his sister's side, copying her posture.

"What's up?"  Jero asks.

"Shh," whispers Sylia.  "Look over there."  Sylia points a finger toward a few oak trees about thirty yards from their position.  Puvol's little body can be seen between the huge tree trunks, facing in the direction of an old wooden tool shed not more than ten yards away.  Puvol's body stays perfectly still.

"What's he looking at the tool shed for?"  Jero asks.

"I don't think he's looking at it," Sylia replies.  "I think he's looking at something behind it."

Suddenly, a bright blue aura outlines the tool shed as a mystical sound begins to emanate from behind.  The oak trees' branches begin to sway, the metal roof of the tool shed starts to rattle and shake.

"I don't like the look of that."  Jero's eyes widen.

"Let's go," Sylia leaps to her feet and makes a mad dash towards the tool shed, with Jero behind her in hot pursuit.  "Puvol!" yells Sylia, but the increasing sounds of whatever's behind the tool shed, and the sudden arrival of a great wind blocks her voice from being heard.

Puvol begins to move his little legs and sprints towards the blue light behind the shed.  Sylia's continuous yells to Puvol are to no avail as he disappears behind the old wooden shed. 

"Faster Jero!"

"I'm going as fast as I can."  Jero pants.

As the two teens turn the corner, they stop dead in their tracks.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?"  Jero asks.

The bright blue lights, swirling hypnotically in a counterclockwise fashion, is slightly blinding to the two Harvey children.  Sparkles of white magic dust swish and twist with the rigid winds, dancing and prancing to the tune of a mysterious song created by the blue spinning oval in front of them.  

"It's a portal."

"You don't think…?"  Jero trails off from his question.

"I think so."  Sylia says with a touch of dread in her voice.

"Look," Jero points to the portal as its lights begin to dim and dissipate.  The blue swirl begins to speed up and shrink at the same time, looking as if it was sucking itself into nothingness.  "It's closing."

"Come on Jero."  Sylia starts towards the portal when Jero's hand grasps her arm in protest.

"You've got to be kidding Syl," his eyes speak clearly of fear.  "We don't know where we'll end up if we go into that thing.  What if we don't make it back."

"You can stay and tell mom and dad Jero," Sylia breaks free from Jero's grip.  "But I'm going to get Puvol back."  Without any hesitation, she makes a great leap into the portal, her body evaporating among a sea of electric blue lights and white magic dust.  Jero, fists clenched and feet plastered to the dirt below, contemplates his choices with a strained look on his face.  Dreams of being one of the elite soldiers in his father's army cross his mind, as a faint voice begins to echo in his ears.  

(What if we don't come back?)

He hears the voice echo in his ears again.  _I hear you Sylia_, Jero thinks to himself.

"I have the courage."  Jero says as he takes a deep breath, bends his knees, and runs into the portal with a loud warrior's cry.  His body, entering the portal just before it closes, disappears in a glorious sparkle of blue and white light, leading him to an unknown location and unknown dangers.

Rosa rounds the corner of the Food Depository after speaking with Parius at the Magicians Cottage about the whereabouts of her children.  A harsh wind blows in from the north leading Rosa's attention to the blue light being radiated from behind the old tool shed, its metal roof shaking uncontrollably.  Rosa sees Sylia run behind the shed towards the light, leaving Jero standing alone.  Rosa, now filled with intense worry, streaks towards the tool shed, her white gown rippling rapidly and her golden hair flowing effortlessly with the unwavering gusts of wind.  She raises an arm in front of her face as numerous leaves and branches come flailing at her; gusts of dust and small pebbles pinch at her heels.

"Jero!"  Rosa yells to her son.  Jero stands still, as if frozen in place by whatever he's observing at the moment. 

"Jero!" she yells again.  

He doesn't hear her.  Jero follows in the direction of Sylia, towards the light behind the shed.  Rosa puts an extra burst of speed in her step, breaking the heels of her sandals in the process.  As she rounds the corner of the tool shed, Rosa's heart skips a few beats as a bright blue portal begins to dissolve into nothingness.  

"No!"  Rosa screams as she attempts to dive into the portal to follow her children.  

Unfortunately, the portal closes well before she can get there, leaving Rosa to collapse upon the dirt ground scraping her knees.  A few white specks of magic dust melts around her body like snowflakes on hot concrete.  

"My children," Tears begin to fill within Rosa's soft, blue eyes, her golden hair fallen across her pale face.  "My children."  Those two words reverberate in her mind, in her thoughts.  The winds begin to die down as the area returns to its peaceful setting, the metal roof of the tool shed going silent.

"Where…?"  Rosa begins to frantically contemplate her situation.  Then, with a quick idea in her head, she gets to her feet, never dusting herself off, and heads for the castle.  Rosa didn't know where her children were, but she was willing to do whatever it takes to find them.  Her pace is lightning quick and her eyes are determined.  She bursts through every door, ignores every person, and never says a word until she reaches the front courtyard of Castle Baron where Kain is speaking to a few of his soldiers.

"Kain, where's my husband?"  A few tears cascade down Rosa's white cheeks.

"You just missed him.  He's left for Fabul," Kain says.  "What's wrong Rosa?"

Rosa tells her short story through a shaky voice and a few more tears.  Most mothers, if they were in her situation, would be frantic and wild, speaking through hyperventilation and a high-pitched tone to which only bits and pieces of information could be attained; arms flying every which way, eyes wide, mouth in such rapid movement that not even a deaf person could read a single word from their lips.  But Rosa had more control of her emotions, her thoughts, and voice; though her voice was just a little bit on the shaky side at the moment.  

"What can we do?"

"Are there any more airships available?"  Rosa wipes her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.  How could I leave them alone for so long? She thinks to herself.  (Because something like this has never happened before, like the sneak attack on Baron; they're usually good kids, better than the average wouldn't you say?)  Her conscience spoke quite loudly in her head.  They are good kids.

"A few of the airships have just passed maintenance and inspection."

"Good.  Could you get one ready for me while I pack a few things?"

"Where are you going?" Kain tries to hide his disapproval of her leaving Baron.

"I'm going to Toroia," Rosa makes her way back into the castle with Kain following closely behind her.  His blue armor clanking in rapid succession as the sun sparks a magnificent glint of light from shoulder to elbow then vanishes as the shadow of the castle gate subdues it.  

Kain's mind races and stalls, trying to grasp the whole situation all at once: Rydia, then Cecil, now Rosa leaving Baron, and leaving him alone.  Even the Harvey children were away; taken away most likely, by an unknown person, or force, which just complicates the entire predicament he finds himself in at the moment.  A few beads of sweat gather at the center of his temple.  _It's just because it's so hot outside_, he thinks.  _Besides, my helmet_…  He stops his thoughts right there.  He wasn't wearing his helmet.  His short blonde hair, wet with sweat, was more on the darker shade.  He hadn't worn a helmet since those days of years past when war had plagued this world.  Kain had worn a specially made helmet, a Dragoon Helm, tailored to suit the needs of protection, stealth, and agility—hard enough to protect from most weapons, shaped in an aerodynamic form for his special jump attacks, and light enough so as not to put too much weight on his head.  Its dark blue color matched his plate armor perfectly.  It also helped to overshadow his eyes to shade them from the sun, and to keep their sight hidden from his enemies.  

A Dragoon Helm for a Dragoon; that's what he was, what he prided himself on.  A Dragoon is a certain class of knights that specializes in spear wielding, leaping attacks, and dragon slaying.  Kain fit the bill for the first two, but the third was a bit of a problem in his younger years.

Before the days of the Great War, Kain had decided to take up the ranks of the Dragoon to be like his father who had passed away several years ago.  Kain trained long and hard, doing tedious drills and workouts, not really impressing anyone; not that that was what he was training for, but the word from his friends and some of his other family members was that, 'if you wanted to be a Dragoon, don't you have to kill a dragon first?' Dragons were a dying species at the time, though you wouldn't know it now with what has transpired recently.  Kain, in time, had all the physical abilities required to become a Dragoon; an elite status in the distant past, now held by maybe one or two other people who were now too old to even use the bathroom without having an accident.  Kain was more adamant, determined to become what his father once was despite the urging of his peers to take up the ranks of the Royal Guard instead, a request that would also be made by the former King of Baron years later.

It took Kain almost a year and a half before he even saw a dragon.  

He'd seen one once before when he was very little, from a large distance across the horizon, he couldn't even tell what color it was. That's as close as he got.  

He took a trip to a little village called Palidor located beyond the northern mountains.  It was a new community built from missionaries who came in from the east.  Years later it would be known as the Village of Mist in reference to a creature who would later be the village protector.  Kain went there to train with one of his buddies from Baron's military academy, though there wasn't much training done.  

_'The women here are hot Kain, I'm telling you you've got to be here_.'  That's what the letter his buddy wrote to him said and he wasn't kidding.  When Kain reached the village carrying a traveling bag in one hand and a spear in the other, he could already see the number of nubile young women prancing around, conversing with each other, doing their shopping—I like this place already, Kain was thinking.  He stroked a hand through his then long hair; his blonde strands tied back into a loose ponytail.  '_Women like long hair; they'll like you too_.'  That was also in the letter.  Kain met his friend (his name was Tregarrious Andilus, but everyone called him 'Tregan' for short.  A sort of mix between his first and last name, though later someone would say that a drunk started calling him that because he couldn't pronounce 'Tregarrious.' So the drunk just called him by his dog's name, which was Tregan.  No one knows if the drunk really had a dog called Tregan, and Tregarrious vehemently denies this story).  He joined Tregan at the local tavern to share a drink and talk the talk.  Kain took off his helmet, shook Tregan's hand, and sat with him at one of the wooden tables in the far corner of the tavern.  

A pretty, young barmaid by the name of Bella, served up the first round of beers for the two young gentlemen.  Her beautiful green eyes and luscious red lips made Kain's blood boil.  Her coal black hair had graced Kain's face, allowing him the opportunity to smell those sweet, wavy tendrils of hers.  She wore a very tight barmaids' outfit—a little pink number that sported a deep V-neck and a skirt cut a few inches above her knees.  Kain took a long, hungry look down her cleavage as she bent over to set down their drinks, eyeing the black lacy bra which peeked out and cupped those ample white breasts of hers (I wonder what those feel like), then paid as much attention to the curves of her rear as she walked away, the outline of her panties seemed to be calling to him (I'd like that sitting on my legs…and my…).  

Tregan, who came into the tavern practically every day, had no reason to look at the barmaid this time, and instead kept his eyes on Kain with great amusement.  He'd never seen Kain act so…so (horny?) interested.  That's probably because the chicks in Baron were all married with kids and the enormous weight of responsibility that comes with it had taken its toll, and made the women unattractive, he thought.  Maybe they're just all ugly.  Oh to be young and thoughtless, that was these two.

A sudden shriek and explosion took Kain's attention away from Bella's round, supple (tight) rear end.  A horde of yells and screams and another explosion rocked the tavern, cracking windows and causing people to duck for cover.  Kain grabbed his spear--a special spear with four large, feathered hooks at the base of a diamond-shaped blade and two grips along the metallic shaft made from a blacksmith in Baron—placed his helmet on his head, and dashed outside with Tregan following.  Cutting through the traffic of running villagers screaming for their lives, Kain headed for an enormous cloud of smoke that emanated from a two-story house that caught fire.  A pair of gigantic, red, scaly wings was cutting through the bales of smoke and dust like a knife through a chocolate cake.

Being one in his late teens, Kain was totally ecstatic and excited to be able to have this opportunity to slay his first dragon (turn it into jerky was what he actually wanted to do).  A pack of lightly armored soldiers were already on the scene trying to push back the thirty-foot tall reptile.  Most of their efforts were in vain as most of their weapons hit the red dragon harmlessly.  Kain could have sworn the dragon was laughing at them.

"God it's big."  Kain just stood and stared at the crimson beast dancing with the thick, gray smoke.

"No shit," Tregan came up beside him following his gaze.  "So Mr. Wanna-be-a-Dragoon-just-like-my-father-and-no-one's-gonna-stop-me, what do you plan to do?"

Kain was at a complete loss for words.  He was so intent on finding a dragon to kill that he never really shaped a game plan for taking one down.  "I'm going to…" 

(What am I going to do?)

Out of nowhere a great bolt of lightning came crashing down on the unsuspecting dragon, white shards of energy zipping and zapping in and around it, knocking it senseless.  Kain quickly scanned the area looking for the source, his eyes panned from left to right under the shadow of his helmet.  A farmer moving his cattle out of the barn, two women (looks like mother and daughter) cowering under an empty wooden cart, a man carrying his crying baby away from the action—there he is!  

A black magician, garbed in a hooded cloak that trailed about two feet behind him, was standing near the well on the east side of the village where no one else was.  His long, gray hair with matching beard blew from side to side in a funnel of wind that had encircled his body.  The mages hands were clasped together, holding a set of beads with a silver talisman dangling below it.  The funnel surrounding him grew larger as a sort of blue electricity sparked within it here and there, but never hurting the black mage.  With a smooth hand gesture and a step towards its intended target, the mage hurled the funnel at the red dragon.  Jagged beams of blue light now erratically filled the wind tube in disorderly fashion, accompanied by the loud screeches of electricity.  The red dragon was hit head on in its back.  The blue electricity sent a shockwave through the beast's body causing its neck and head to recoil backwards, and sent a deafening roar of pain out of its lungs.  The wind enveloped the dragon, spinning, tearing its wings to shreds, and making the world go round.  The funnel dissipated, allowing whatever leaves and garbage it had picked up along the way to fall to the ground.  The dragon, in such complete shock and despair, limped forward; spikes of blue electricity still flowing over it in some places.  Its neck snapped back to the front, lowered in pain no less than ten feet off the ground, its legs staggered.  

Kain saw this as the perfect opportunity and without giving it any thought, he leaped high into the air, using the skills he had acquired through intense training to hit a peak of about thirty-five feet.  He twisted and flipped in gymnastic fashion, moving his special spear from one hand to the other, then vice versa, more for show than anything else.  The speed at which he descended with was tremendous causing half of his blue-armored body to blur; his helmet had streaked a bright light reflected from the sun and looked like a shooting star crashing to the ground.  With a sharp eye, Kain locked in on the exact spot on which he would impale the dragon, like a bowman catching a target in his crosshairs.  The spear hit its mark, right between the ears, stabbing the dragon deep within its scaly head and straight to the brain, sending blood, bone, and sinew flying everywhere.  The impact echoed out a clanging sound, as if his armor was speaking loudly of its successful hit.  The dragon let out a horrendous cry, lifted its head in agony, and spewed hot flames out of its gaping mouth.  The grips on the spear helped Kain to hold on, and the feathered hooks made sure the spear stayed in the dragon's skull.  And with one strong move Kain twisted the spear, spun it around once, and pushed his special weapon deeper into the monster's cranium.  One last gasp and that was it.  The red dragon's head came crashing down to the grassy, bloodstained surface with a very distinct thud.

After he caught his balance, Kain gave his spear a quick jerk to the left, then to the right, and finally ripped his weapon out of the lifeless head of the dragon.  A small leap to the ground later and he was surrounded by many of the villagers who thanked him for his courage and bravery (I did it!), shook his hand, gave him hugs and kisses, and asked him what it felt like to kill such a monster (I did it!).

Kain looked over his shoulder, over the crowd of thankful people, but the black magician was nowhere to be seen, like he was never there at all.  More people had gathered around their 'hero' and some of them had lifted Kain upon their shoulders; the crowd cheered, and raised their hands in celebration.  Tregan was one of those that lifted Kain up, and yelled to the crowd, "Kain the Dragoon has saved the village!"  A loud 'hooray' was spoken in unison as the villagers carried their 'hero' back to the tavern, to buy him drinks, to ask him where he was from, and other questions that really wouldn't matter many days later.  As he was being led back to the tavern on the shoulders of his friend and others, Kain desperately searched the village once more to find any traces of the black mage with the gray hair and beard, and the silver talisman; the one who created the funnel and the lightning bolt; the one who caused the dragon so much pain allowing Kain to finish the job.

_I didn't do it_, he thought to himself_.  I'm not deserving of this_.

His conversations with the villagers who surrounded him in the tavern—Kain's new 'buddies'—were nothing more than glory stories told through the voice of a man who knows he is not worthy.  That didn't stop him from exaggerating his feelings and emotions as he killed the dangerous red beast—heart racing, body full of adrenaline, but he did what he had to do to save the village, blah, blah, blah, and so on (I was scared to death actually, putting the finishing touches on a monster that was already half dead and buckling forward toward the ground.  The mage did more internal damage than I did externally, probably caused the dragon's heart to skip beats and possibly brain damage).

Later on that night, Kain would find himself in the arms of Bella the barmaid, holding her close in a room of the Palidor Inn.  On a very springy bed, among candlelight and wine (the finest, donated by the tavern to the 'village hero'), Kain had lost his virginity.  He felt his first woman, gathered her sweet (so sweet) scent into his nostrils, into his very soul; grasped warmly of her naked form—every curve, every crevice—watched her fluid movements with exotic wonder; tasted the soft, white skin that seemed to melt under his smooth, wet tongue; groped and caressed everything that was physically sacred to her as he hungrily kissed of her full, red lips; enraptured by her pleasurable moans (that high pitched sexual tone); felt her hands move slowly across his body—his broad chest, the expanse of his back down to his tail bone, further down—her coal black hair encompassed their sweat soaked bodies; the candlelight flickered, their shadows made love on the walls; and as the full moon hit its peak in the night's cloudless sky, they embraced their bodies together in a sexual odyssey that they would share for many more nights.

Years later, after the Zeromus War, Kain would relinquish his Dragoon Helm for a more natural look, for reasons yet to be explained.  The war served to be a great learning process for him—about his soul, about his wants and desires, about his priorities and what makes Kain who he is.  Who he is now is someone in great need of clarification, for another one of his friends (one who he would do anything for), was about to leave.

Kain points to one of his soldiers, an ensign, and tells him to get one of the airships ready for take-off.

"What's in Toroia?" His question directed at Rosa who now makes her way down the castle's Royal Hallway.

"A sage," she speedily walks through the open doorway to her bedroom chambers, left open by Nanny she supposed.  "I met her a few years ago while on an excursion with a few of my students.  I was teaching them the magical properties of certain stone fragments which could only be found out there," She grabs a leather satchel from beside her dresser drawer knocking down a few toiletries in the process, but paying no mind to them.  "I entered the shop of the sage looking for a specific type of limestone, which she didn't have, but she told me what her business was about.  She's a kind of psychic, 'the all seeing' kind; you know the type."

Kain nods.  He'd seen all kinds of characters make their way to and through Baron—crazy old salesmen selling 'the next best thing' when it comes to cleaning your home, or the bald man who says he has a magic pill that can make your hair grow back, or old ladies who say they can see into the future and tell you your fortune if you've got enough money for it.

"Just for fun I tested her.  She said she could tell me who my husband was, where he was, what he was doing at the time, and so on.  I gave her my wedding ring to hold onto, because apparently she needs to be in contact with something that relates to the person in question, and I let her have a go at it.  I figured the first question was easy because most people know who I am no matter where they're from, so in turn they would know who my husband was.  She went on about Cecil and I thought to myself, 'I wouldn't know what he was doing at this moment unless I asked him when I get home.'  Well, I was just about to ask for my ring back when the sage started to talk about me, about my life.  She spoke to me about places I've been, things I've seen, my innermost secrets and desires, things I've never told Cecil or anyone else about…" She opens her dresser and begins to literally throw some of her clothing into the bag at a frantic pace.  "That's when I became a believer.  I've never gone back to her ever since, but I know she'll be able to help me find my children."

Kain watches Rosa toss her clothing into the brown satchel—a pair of long, white, satin pants, a matching shirt, a pair of beige cotton shorts, some brassieres, more shirts—he is now aware that Rosa has no intention of returning to Baron once the sage told her of her children's whereabouts.

"I should go with you."

"If you come with me, who's going to watch over Baron?" She continues her packing without lifting her eyes to Kain.  "Cid's not here, and I really hate the idea of leaving the High Council in charge."  Kain had to agree with her on that.  Rosa flings a few pairs of underwear into the satchel and heads for her nightstand.  Kain looks into her bag and eyes a pair of black, slightly transparent, silk panties, laced all around the edges with a purple heart embroidered in the center, reminding him of a pair of panties Bella had worn for him all those years ago.  Kain quickly returns his gaze toward Rosa as she returns to her satchel, casting into it a brush, one of her spell books, and a few of her small bands that she uses to tie her hair into a ponytail.  After taking a quick scan of her room, Rosa zips up her brown, leather satchel, grabs a long metal rod leaning against the side of her oak dresser, and heads out the door; her pace slightly faster than when she came into it.

As Rosa and Kain enter the courtyard, one of the undamaged airships in a makeshift hangar just outside the castle begins to rev up.  Small clouds of dust and debris start to form under the propellers.  At the bottom of the ramp, Rosa turns to Kain and wraps an arm around his neck, her head resting upon his shoulder.

"I have to do this," her voice a little choked up.  "I'm sorry to leave you alone like this."

"I'll pray for you and the safe return of your children Rosa."  His arms, wrapped in armor, hold Rosa around her waist.  Her golden hair blowing in the wind cascades across Kain's slightly tanned face; its smell reminding him again of Bella from Palidor.  After giving him a small peck on his cheek, Rosa turns to the ramp behind her, her hand sliding down Kain's arm then clasping his hand within hers for a moment.  Then her forward stride leads her up the ramp, forcing their clutched hands to break their union.  Their separation felt to Kain like it did when Cecil left just moments ago, except this one was more (romantic? Slightly erotic?) emotional.  As the airship bearing the crest of Baron lifts off the solid ground beneath it, Kain waits to see if Rosa will look over the railing to wave at him.  A tear streaks down his slightly tanned cheeks as he raises his hand to wave; Rosa looking over the railing and waving her hand in a way to say, 'I'll see you soon.' 

The airship makes a roundabout turn toward the northwest, increasing its speed and altitude, and slowly disappearing in the distance.

_Maybe I should see this so-called 'Sage of Toroia,'_ he thinks.  _Maybe she can tell me what the future holds for me_.  And with that, Kain re-enters the castle to continue the relief and rebuilding efforts, his mind never trailing from the image of Bella (Rosa) in his thoughts.


	11. Another Mission

Chapter 9:  Another Mission

This poem is an excerpt taken from one of Porom's many diaries.  Written more than two years ago, it stands tall and pronounced; harsh and foreboding; set as a reminder to her, and to all, about the trying times for anyone and everyone, when war is not a factor and when life's little problems seem unending.  The poem was never revised, never edited.

_For the Pitiful and for Pity_

_(the words of my conscience)_

_Dear burdened wonder, hear me now,_

_trapped under the wicked plow_

_of life, yet unto knowing how_

_thy face have left but weary._

_Darkened clouds in heaven's sky_

_have seen through souls with piercing eye,_

_and yours may not be happy, by_

_my thoughts, your thoughts are dreary._

_Oh for pity, grace this hollow stone_

_of skin so rough and shattered bone,_

_to give her strength that all her own_

_shall weep amongst the trees._

_She's back to that dull, empty well_

_where many other mortals dwell,_

_to build a large and living hell_

_where angels do but tease._

_I cannot say without a doubt_

_that stressful times have come about,_

_hath turned this creature inside out._

_Can there be any ending?_

_Love has trapped her heart through pain,_

_as books have shot right through her brain,_

_and work leaves nothing left for shame;_

_her body shaking, bending._

_Drinking with the demon's bear_

_who always wants more than its share,_

_yet she, as listless, doesn't care;_

_lost? Oh Lord, hope not._

_She leaves in things undone to hold_

_of merits which that seem too bold,_

_and keeps in she the things untold_

_which soon won't be forgot._

_Dear burdened soul, see it true_

_that I have no answer for you;_

_nor do the heavens, seeing through_

_your empty, stressful mind._

_See but yonder graveyard steps_

_where buried, burdened souls are kept,_

_where friends and lovers never wept,_

_because thy fault is mine._

            "What else did they tell you?"

            "Not much else," Palom tries to explain the situation to Porom, gathered together from bits and pieces of information received from the Elder's council.  Apparently, all the Elder told them was that he was going to be away for a while and handed them something to give to the twins.  "They just gave me this book, bowed their reverent heads, and walked back to their chambers—probably practicing their poker skills."

            "Knock it off Palom."  Porom takes the book from her brother's hands in haste.

            "No really, I swear I saw a couple of them at the tables a couple of days ago.  I think it was Humerstein and Pellyncrest…or was it Shillinsworth?"

            Porom ignores his ramblings and focuses on the brown, dusty, leather cover of the book in her hands.  Its face is bordered with gold, metallic ink, looping here and there with the artistry of a master calligrapher.

            "They must be pretty good at playing poker," Palom continues.  "They had this huge stack of chips and I could've sworn I saw them spanking a waitress in the ass.  Man Porom, you should've seen the look on her face.  It was cherry red and her mouth was wide open…she didn't know what to say.  I guess even holy men get horny once in awhile, I mean being cooped up in here all day, all year, you know something's gotta be going on behind their bedroom doors late at night…not that I've been thinking about that or anything, but…" A sudden burst of coughing ignites from Palom's lungs as Porom blows a thick mist of dust from the book's cover.  "That (cough) wasn't (cough, cough) nice (cough, hack)."  Palom bends over, hands on knees, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath.

            With a slight grin of success on her face, Porom directs her attention back to the book—the title, _Warriors of Light_, written in the same gold ink.  She opens the book to the first page, the same title appearing in the center with the subtitle, _History's First War_.  Palom's coughing continues as Porom turns to the next page.  Just as she begins to read ("This is a very important account of events dating back hundreds of years…"), a pair of hands grab tightly around her arms.

            "You're lucky you're my sister, otherwise I would have taken more offense to what you just did."  Palom speaks his words through short, heaving breaths.

            "You're lucky I just didn't smack you in the face with the backside of this book dummy."

            "You wouldn't do that."

            "Of course not.  This book is much more valuable to just use it to flatten your dusty mug into a pancake," she closes the book.  "Come on, we should go to the Elder's cottage and try to find out where he went."

            "Where'd your new boyfriend go?"

            A little annoyed at the sarcastic way he says this, Porom clutches the book to her chest and says, "He's outside.  Not that it's any of your business."

            "Whoa ho!"  Palom exclaims.  "So he is your boyfriend."

            "And what if he was."  Porom is gearing up for another one of their outlandish sibling arguments.  

            "Nothing."

The look on Porom's face is nothing less than stunned.  

"I think it's great that you're finally going out with someone, you know?  I was getting a little worried about you." 

_Is he actually showing some sincerity?_ Porom thinks.  

"You're always cramming your face into those books at the library, going to sleep early, I never see you hanging out with anyone, I was wondering if you had any friends at all." 

Porom's eyes, unblinking, begin to water.

"You've just been looking a little lost and lonely from my perspective, and I think that this guy is really good for you.  I've talked with him a few times in the past so it's not like I don't know him." 

Her urge to wrap her arms around her brother's neck and sob into his shoulder begins to overtake her.  

"At least we know he's not in it for your breasts because, let's face it sis, there ain't much to look at there."  

That did it—Porom's eyes dry up faster than a small puddle of water on the hottest day in history; her heart races, not with emotion but adrenaline, as her right hand comes up and slaps her 'loving' brother on the cheek, the smack echoes throughout the hall.

            "Let's go jerk, we've got work to do!"  Porom quickly does an about face and heads out the front door, leaving Palom behind to nurse his wound.

            "I gotta learn to shut-up," He rubs his throbbing cheek and follows his sister out the door of the Hall of Enlightenment.  As his eyes get adjusted to the sun's searing light, he's greeted to the sight of his beautiful fiancée.  "What are you doing here?"

            Lyrca wraps her arms around Palom's neck.  "I came to tell you about a family dinner my grandparents are having on the other side of town," Her brown ponytail is draped over the front of her right shoulder, tickling Palom's chin.  "It's tomorrow night and my grandparents are dying to see you again."  _Any older and they'd already be dead_, he thinks to himself.  (Stop it!)

            "Actually we have a slight problem."  He says.

            "What's that?"

            "The Elder's run off," Porom says, still clutching the book to her chest.  "We're going to his cottage to find his whereabouts."

            "Can I help?"  Lyrca regards the Elder with the feelings she has towards her grandparents.  The Elder has been very kind to her by taking the time to teach Lyrca some of her white magic skills.  He would also tell her heroic tales of days past, mostly about Palom.  She never seems to tire of hearing stories about him and the Elder knew this very well.

            "Sure," says Porom before Palom could get in a word.  I think maybe I'll just meet you back at your place, is what Palom would have said if his sister didn't butt in.  He was feeling a slight strain around his neck for some reason, like an invisible noose was slowly tightening, cutting off his air supply.  Dizziness starts to overtake him and he loses his balance momentarily.

            "You all right Palom?" asks Gerald.

            "Yeah, just a little wobbly…I'm fine."

            "I smacked him upside the head with this book.  I guess I hit him a little too hard," Porom says.

            "Nah I'm fine.  Let's get to the Elder's already."

            The foursome walks two by two up the stone pathway leading to the Elder's cottage.  Lyrca wraps her hand within Palom's.  An intense chill creeps over his entire body as if life were seeping away from him.  A cold sweat begins to form in his palms.  He looks ahead at his sister, her right arm wrapped around Gerald's left, and though he's in their company and that of his fiancée, Palom can't help but feel very alone at the moment.

Interlude 1 

            "We're at the halfway point My Lord."

            "Very good captain," says Cecil.  "Let me know when you get first site of Fabul."

            "Aye, aye."

            Cecil couldn't help the strange and dreadful feeling that's run over him.  It started a few moments after their takeoff from Baron—a feeling of distress, a worry that has now intensified, as if something back home has happened.  For a brief moment Cecil considered turning back to see if everything was all right, but he forced himself to continue on his flight toward ruined Fabul.

            Too many things were happening all at once.  Throughout the Zeromus War, Cecil was able to hold himself a little better.  But now as the king of an entire nation, the burden and stress of looking after his countrymen, his kingdom, has all but encompassed him into a vast blackness, emptiness, and leaving him with a feeling of loneliness.  So many people looking up to him, for protection and guidance, so many lives at stake that even he, the great hero of the Zeromus War, was never quite ready for.  

_Where to begin?  Who do you trust?_

            (Shocking night huh?  Nice and dark with nothing around you but fire and blood.)

            _What will it take to survive this time?_

            (Revenge never tasted so sweet.)

            _Who is behind all this?_

            (It's only begun you know…and when it's all over…)

            _Will you live to tell the tale?_

            (The time has come to crown a new king.)

            "I don't know what to do."  Cecil says to himself, hands drawn to his face to hide the dismay strewn across it.

End of Interlude 1 

            Reading the note the Elder left, assuring them that there was nothing wrong, didn't convince anyone of that.  The Elder has left his room a mess—books not shelved, the ink jar used to help write the note left open, blank sheets of paper strewn about his oak table, not to mention the window above the table being left open.  Gerald, Lyrca, and Palom comb the area for any clues that might help discern the Elder's destination.  Porom on the other hand sits quietly on a velvet-cushioned chair reading the book given to them by the Elder's council.  Her eyes move with rapid speed, back and forth, engulfing every word, every sentence into her head.

            "A band of mighty warriors took it upon themselves to fight the evil that was sweeping the entire planet," Porom reads.  "Fighters, mages, martial artists, the best and the brightest took a stand, building a foundation of hope which would never be defeated.  Throughout the many years it took to conclude this, the first war ever recorded, never did any hero fall.  Their power, their spirit, their will, all divine and within their hearts, never relinquished their desire for peace and happiness in their world.  And so, they shined an intense light within the darkness that cascaded over their homes, their lands, their people; and those people would give their heroes a name—The Light Warriors."

            "Well he took his compass, his bag, a spell book, and a couple of other things," Palom says, "but there's nothing here that tells us where he went."

            "Anything interesting in that book Porom?" Gerald asks.

            "Interesting, yes.  Helpful? No," Porom closes the book after dog-earring a page to remind her where she left off.  "The Elder gave this book to his council to give to us.  So far it's nothing more than a history book about a group of heroes called 'The Light Warriors'."

            "Who wants to learn about a bunch of anorexic guys?"  Palom jokes.

            No one laughs, not even Lyrca.

            "Maybe reading the book in its entirety will relinquish some clues," says Gerald.  "There has to be a reason why he left it with you to read."

            "Perhaps," Porom stands up.  "But I'm not going to just sit here and read this thing while the Elder could be in trouble elsewhere.  I think we should head out and search for him."  Porom starts for the door when Palom interrupts.

            "Ok, that's good and all sis, and I'm all for it, but where do we start looking?  No clues remember?"

            "First we quickly check any of the docks around town to see if the Elder took a boat.  If that's not the case, then we travel east.  We'll go to the Chocobo Forest like we did when we went up Mt. Ordeals, and hop a ride on the Chocobos; that will speed up our search."

            "There are three docking areas, so we should split up and meet back here as soon as possible."  Gerald suggests.

            "No," says Porom.  "Palom and I will do this, you and Lyrca don't need to be in this."

            Lyrca comes up behind Porom and lays a hand on her shoulder.  "I would like to be a part of this if you don't mind Porom.  The Elder has not only been a teacher to me, but he's also been like a guardian," Lyrca looks to Palom for a moment then turns her attention back to her future sister-in-law.  "My concern is true, and I want to do everything in my power to make sure he's safe."

            "That goes double for me," Gerald says.  "I may not know the Elder like any of you, but I know what that man has done, not only for Mysidia, but for the entire world.  We all owe the Elder our lives."

Seeing no way to persuade them otherwise, Porom lets out a slight sigh and then nods her head.  

"Alright, let's go.  Palom, since you know a few of the dock-workers at Sterling Port then you go there; Gerald can take Yorkshire; Lyrca and I will take Adhellar Bay.  Ask anyone about the Elder's whereabouts…there shouldn't be anyone who doesn't know who he is.  We'll all meet back here in an hour, and once it's been determined that he didn't go by boat, we head for the Chocobo Forest to the east."

"Sounds like a plan to me sis."  Palom says.  The others agree.  And with that, they leave the Elder's cottage and split up to look for him, praying and hoping that he hasn't gone far.

"I'm too old for this," says the Elder to himself as he makes his way past Mt. Ordeals.  "A man like me should be lying in bed dying slowly and quietly."  Using a magic staff as a walking stick, the Elder continues his trek to the east.  The sun is harsh and blaring causing his body to run with sweat and fatigue.  His breathing is slightly labored, his eyes squinting in the searing light.

He's been walking nearly continuously since early yesterday evening, only taking an hour for a short nap.

In the distance, the Elder can see a pack of gray mountain wolves patrolling the grassy plains at the base of Mt. Ordeals, but he knows they will do him no harm.  Not as long as he wears his mystical amulet which keeps any wild beast at bay.  The amulet was created by a blacksmith, specifically to the Elder's instruction, and made from a very rare jewel found only in the snowy valleys on the northernmost island of Malamori.  With a little touch of magic, the amulet's warding properties are ignited, and its powers last for as long as the user wears it, or as long as the user is living.  

The blacksmith who helped create the amulet was a long time friend of the Elder, back in the days when he was known as Ghilwood Llewelyn.  They both lived in the town of Brumsfeld—a town that was recreated into what is now the kingdom of Baron.  When the Elder took up the ranks of the ministry, he left his town and blacksmith behind.  The Elder kept in contact with his friend from time to time.  The last he heard, the blacksmith was residing in a small village called Haywood, known for its strong herbal creations such as potions and healing salves.  The rich soil surrounding the town makes it prime for growing such herbal necessities.

The Elder walks at a steady pace through the crowd of mountain wolves, many of them growling their disdain for the old man passing by.  A few of the canines take a couple of steps towards the Elder then suddenly bounce backwards on their heels as if some force were kicking them away.  Ghilwood the Elder wipes the beads of sweat that trickle down to his eyelids.

"I have to find him soon before life leaves my body."  His words are barely audible even to himself.  He continues forward with the hot afternoon heat coursing through his body, as the wolves stare intently at the old man who, seemingly, has little life left in his withered body.

Interlude 2 

"Lady Rydia," a deck officer calls to the Queen of Eblana from the main deck.  "We should be reaching home soon, so far there's no sign of trouble."

Rydia doesn't say a word.  She just nods to the deck officer.  Ever since they've left Baron, Rydia's been doing nothing but think.  Her mind races frantically at what they might see when they reach Eblana.  A town in ruin, a broken castle, a blood-filled massacre decorated with the torn bodies of her townspeople strewn about the entire kingdom.  She swears she can hear the screams from the women and children, the horrid cries of her soldiers, the look on her husband's face, knowing that their kingdom has just been renewed, restored to its natural glory, only to see it be obliterated by an unknown evil, a darkness without a name.  She can picture the clouded skies above Eblana, with streaks of red cutting through them like blood trickling from open wounds.  She can hear the thunder, see the lightning, and feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  Her body is weightless, filled with the light air of dread.  She senses the touch of a cold hand on her shoulder, bony and dry, harsh with calluses and dead skin, slowly moving toward her throat, now wrapping itself around it with great strength.  The cold, dark hand begins to grow, turning snake-like, constricting around her entire neck, cutting off her air supply, cutting off her life.  Let it stop, she thinks to herself.  Let it be over. 

(Oh, things are far from over my dear.  It's only just begun.)  

_Leave me be.  Please leave me alone_.  

(Hear them cry, see their pain.)  

_God help me.  _

(No one can help you, not this time, not even your dear friends.)

_Please._

"Lady Rydia?"

She awakens from her trance.

"Are you alright?"  The ships captain grips her shoulder with a strong hand.

Rydia looks around, startled and scared.  It takes her a few moments to get her breath back.  Only a dream, she thinks to herself.  Only dreams.

"I'm alright Captain Yasshin—just lost in thought."

"Captain!  Lady Rydia!  Come here quickly!"  The deck officer yells.

Within seconds, Rydia and Yasshin are on the main deck looking forward toward the southern horizon.  Both their hearts sink to the very depths of their souls as they eye what looks to be smoke.  Though still far away, the island nation of Eblana can barely be seen, but the trail of cloudy blackness cannot be mistaken.  Rydia's feeling of helplessness is now so pronounced; it brings tears to her eyes.

"We're too late."

End of Interlude 2 

After their search at the docks turns up empty, Palom, Porom, Gerald, and Lyrca gather up supplies for their trek to the Chocobo forest.  As they get set for the trip, Palom pulls Lyrca to the side to talk to her.

"I really don't think you should come along on this one."  His voice is serious, the most serious tone Lyrca's ever heard from Palom.

"I understand your concern sweetheart, but this isn't just about looking for the Elder; not for me," the crease between her eyebrows grows slightly.  "This is about you.  I'm also going because I'm afraid of losing you."

"I know, but what about you?  You've never had any kind of combat training.  You have no idea what we might be facing out there," Palom rests both his hands on Lyrca's shoulders.  His grip is slightly painful but Lyrca stands her ground.  "Something bad's going to happen, I can feel it.  It's in the air, like a really bad smell that you can't get out of your nostrils—a smell that you don't know where it's coming from," His eyes are intense, a darker brown than what Lyrca's used to seeing.  The glint in his eyes are gone, and instead they're replaced with a sort of shade, a cascade of darkness clouding his irises, as if a fire within his mind were releasing bales of smoke through those usually bright brown eyes of his.  It isn't really darkness she sees in him, or evil for that matter—it's foreboding.  He's expecting something terrible to happen and it's clouding his eyes.  "If I ever lost you, I don't know what I would do," And then, a sudden realization occurs to Palom—this was true.  After all his sweating and worrying about in-laws, after the nightmare thoughts and anxieties about marriage, he now knows that Lyrca is the one he wants, the one he needs in his life; that one person who he'd do anything for, give up his life for.  That reassurance to himself lifts some pressure off of his chest, and now it allows him to express himself a little bit more.  "I don't want my future wife to die before I can make a long and happy life with her."  The eyes soften, the glint begins to return, and Lyrca's heart begins to weep.

"I don't want that to happen either sweetheart," she rests a hand against his cheek.  "I want to be there for you whenever you need me, and I know you don't want me to come; but I believe that you need me now, and now is as good a time to start as any," Her second hand comes to rest on Palom's other cheek.  "You and I are a team, and I don't want to hear any 'buts' about it.  You've told me your tales of triumph and heroism…now it's time to start writing a new chapter, for us."

Palom wants to say, "but", but he can't do it.  Not to her, not anymore.  He rests his hands on her waist, pulls her towards him, and gives her the sweetest kiss she's ever received.

"Ahem…" Porom lets out a couple of 'excuse me' coughs and tilts her head in the direction of the main gate leading out of Mysidia, a warm smile on her face saying 'sorry to interrupt, but we have to go now.'

Palom releases the hold on his fiancée and readjusts the pack on his back as Lyrca does the same.

"Alright, let's go find the Elder and bring him back home."  The heroic tone in Palom's voice cannot be mistaken.

"Let's do it." Says Gerald as he rests a hand on Porom's shoulder.  She nods to him.

Two by two out the main gate and toward the Chocobo forest, as friends through the troubling times, now, more like family hand in hand.


	12. Explosion at Eblana

Chapter 10:  Explosion at Eblana

            "Are you sure you know what you're doing Cid?"

            "Hey kid, don't worry about a thing," says the scruffy man.  "I've gone through all the schemes and preparations a hundred times over.  It'll work, just relax."  Cid slaps the back of his newest prodigy in assurance.

            "If it does work, are you going to tell me what you put into this little thing?" The twenty-year old attaches a small, wooden box near the base of a broken down airship.  The young man stands at an average 5'7" with long, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.  His sky-blue eyes are wide in their youth, his face clean and shaven.  His body is lithe, his fingers more lady-like than anything, and the form of his legs, if you could call it form, is straight up and down.  

His name is Hanlen Wallister—a youth who was orphaned at birth and adopted by a couple from Eblana.  His new parents were mere farmers working tirelessly in the fields until the war seventeen years ago.  Now, under the ruling of Edge Geraldine, the successor to the throne, Eblana has turned into more of an industrial society—manufacturing weapons and airships, mass-producing armor and other such things.  Eblana has become the leading supplier of all things military, sending out orders for certain supplies to various kingdoms and towns, and in return they receive shipments of certain foods, raw materials, and money.  Farming isn't as important as it was before, so Hanlen's parents have taken up jobs on the airship assembly line, which produces about two airships a week.

            In looking at Hanlen, he is the complete opposite of his new companion Cid Pollendina—a bulky man standing at 6'3" with a very thick and wiry beard that could trap whatever bugs that fly into it, just as good as any old spider web.  His gray mechanics outfit stretches tightly around his large form.  One rip and his whole body will pour out of that thing, Hanlen whispered to himself the first moment he met Cid.  A wide utility belt, battered safety helmet and thick protective goggles complete the picture of Mr. Pollendina.

            Before he even met Cid, Hanlen already heard the stories about him, just like the tales he heard about all the other heroes of the war.  Looking to become a mechanic himself, Hanlen became ecstatic when he heard that he would be able to meet the legendary man.  Of course the site of Cid threw him a little off guard as the heavy-set man looked as grungy as any homeless person he'd ever seen.

            "I work so much, I never get the chance to change my clothes, that's all."  Cid told him.

            As the two walked through the warehouses earlier in the morning doing safety checks and inspections on a few of the airships, Cid kept up conversation with the young man.

            "Ya know, when you were a just a little runt playing with your toys, I was here helping to shape this place into what it is today," he said.  "All the architectural plans and the schematics for the assembly lines and such…all by me kid.  I tell you I never had so much inspiration to do what I did at that very moment," Cid's eyes scanned around and about the warehouse, marveling at his accomplishment.  "Eblana was in the worse shape than any of the other kingdoms…a lot of battles took place here, oh boy.  You shoulda seen the shit we went through—the explosions, the monsters—chaos all around you, and nothing more than fire and smoke as far as the eye could see," Cid used many hand gestures as he spoke, acting out his story for better effect.  "There was one time, only one, when I thought I was gonna bite the big one, and join my parents up in the stars.  Miraculously I survived and now I'm here, seventeen years later, still helping to rebuild the world from that fucking war."

            Hanlen was caught off guard by the way Mr. Pollendina spoke sometimes.  He could have sworn that he never heard anyone swear and cuss as much as Cid did.  After awhile, Hanlen got used to it and as he himself spoke, he sometimes let those swear words fall out of his own mouth.

            Now, a little past midday, the mechanic and his apprentice are out in the open field to the north of the castle, with a battered, old airship that looks like it's been through three or four wars.  After attaching the wooden device to the airship, Cid taps Hanlen on the arm to get his attention.

            "You ready to run your skinny ass off boy?"

            "Whenever you're ready Mr. Pollendina."

            "Stop with the Mr. Pollendina shit.  Cid will be perfectly fine kiddo.  Just give this button here a little push and…" Cid listens for a moment…a clicking sound starts from within the box.  "Let's go boy!" They take off in the direction of the castle toward a small barricade they set up a little while ago—fat and skinny, in a race for their lives.

            Edge watches some of his ninja students warm down from their recent workout.  Their loud moans of pain from intense aches in their bodies are like music to Edge's ears.  After one of Edge's rigorous training exercises, if you don't feel it, you must not be working hard enough.  That's what he always says.  

These students were his elite class—the best that Eblana has to offer, many of whom traveled from across the globe just to be a part of Edge's 'Silent Brigade'—Edge's army.  Though no one will dispute that Edge's ninja skills are second to none, he himself would admit that some of his students have greater potential and talent than he.  But they are still raw and they need more refining in order to be as good as the great Edge Geraldine, King of Eblana.

            "You boys did good today," he tells his students.  "I expect to see even better results two days from now you hear?"

            His students bow to him and then take their leave.

            Edge wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, beads of sweat glistening among his spiky, blue hair.  He looks out the window of his training room--the sky is clear and bright.  Two airships lift off from a wooden platform below and pass by so close that Edge can make out the faces of the crewmen aboard.  A flock of white birds take flight, following the airships around the castle.  A little farther away in the distance, the town of Eblan bustles with business.  Edge can see the little dots of people moving around and about on their daily commutes.  All is fair and peaceful…a perfect day for most people.

            "God it's been boring lately," Edge says to himself.  "I'm going to need a little action soon or I'm going to grow old pretty fast."  He walks to the other end of the training room, toward a long, marble table with a wooden box sitting on top of it.  Dozens of rolled up parchments sit within twenty compartments inside the box, each parchment diagramming a certain type of ninja skill.  Of course these were mainly the basics that teach students about stealth and concealment.  They also teach things like throwing weapons such as ninja stars and using swords like the katana.

            Edge reaches into the box and grabs one of the parchment rolls from it.  He twirls it between his fingers and passes it from one hand to the other in rapid succession, testing his reflexes.

            The parchments that teach the higher-level skills are stored in a steel strongbox with a combination lock that only a few people know about.  Those papers teach things like assassination strikes and backstabbing skills, or how to use the Rapier of Panatori—a magical weapon with great power that only two people in history have been able to use.  Edge is not one of those people.

            The ninjas are the silent killers…warriors of the night, and by far the deadliest of any army in the world.  Edge, who at times can be very boastful, prides himself greatly on the rise of his ninja warrior brigade.  Pretty bad-ass, he thinks to himself.

            "And who trained them to be the best?  Me baby, that's right."  He stands with his arms out like a cocky street punk, his body language saying, 'You want a piece of this?  Come and get it.'  Ego has always been Edge's main foe.  If his wife Rydia were here right now, she would gladly shoot him down and tell him to check his big head at the door.  

He thinks of her often when she's not around.  Edge remembers ever so clearly the first day when he met Rydia.  Times were tough and the war was still in full swing.  He recalls the emotions that welled up inside of him and his pants, when their paths crossed.  At first she seemed a little shy, which he didn't mind since he knows the way to any woman's heart, or so he says—to himself.  But after a while, he found that Rydia could be very spunky, and also a little harsh when it came to criticizing him.  Edge always liked women with a small bit of attitude, as it made conversation more interesting and heated.

When the war was over, Edge asked Rydia out to dinner thinking that he probably had no chance in hell, but what's the harm in trying, he thought.  To his wonderful surprise she accepted, and since then they've married—her being his sparkling Queen.

The wedding was very extravagant.  Of course with great ego, you need to have an even greater wedding, and Edge spared no expense in getting everything he and his beautiful wife desired for the ceremony.  Countless flowers were draped across the walls, many potted ones lining the pathway toward the altar.  Crimson sheets made from velvet were laid upon the benches where the guests sat—a perfect wedding on a perfect day.

_What a life I've led so far_, he thinks to himself.

            A shiver suddenly comes over Edge sending a chill down his spine.  His eyes move slowly from side to side as his body stays perfectly still.  He can feel a presence within the room somewhere, but even with his ninja abilities he finds it very difficult to determine an exact location.  Edge calmly walks to the middle of the room pretending to not notice a thing.  

Besides the marble table, the room also contains four large stone statues at every corner—tributes to four of the greatest ninja masters in Eblana's history.  There's also a shrine at the eastern wall, set up as a dedication to the last King and Queen of the kingdom—Edge's parents.  

Edge can sense an intense aura surrounding him, emanating from an unknown location.  The fierceness of the aura grows quickly and immensely, slightly suffocating and feeling very deadly.  The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his hands are wet with sweat.  Edge slowly reaches into his ninja garbs, his fingers touching the coldness of a metallic, poison-tipped star.

His eyes are closed while his ears are wide open.  Edge lets his instincts guide him, to search for the mysterious force--the invisible intruder.  A picture begins to form in his mind—blackness that starts to take shape; a form at first discernable, but then shifts into the flowing ripples of a cloak.  The gleam of an eye shines dully through the shadows of a black hood surrounding the beings head, staring at him with a sullen emptiness.  Edge gets closer to pinpointing the exact area where the hidden intruder is located.

_I'm gonna get ya_, Edge thinks to himself, a slight grin on his face.

"Master Edge."  Edge's top advisor, Danson Stardworn steps into the room.

Edge darts his head in the direction of the mystery man, but no sign of the intruder can be seen, the sense of his presence now, all of a sudden, gone.  

"Interesting." He whispers to himself.

"Something wrong?" Danson looks in the same direction as Edge, not seeing anything.  "Is there a fly on the wall that I'm not seeing or is it something else?"

"It's nothing," Edge releases his hold on his throwing star (was someone really there?).  "What can I do for you Danson?"

"I think there's something you should see sir." 

Danson leads his king out to the main balcony of the castle.  Along the way, many of the castle servants hurriedly make their way about, tending to their chores and duties.  The hallways are decorated with many glass cases filled with treasured memorabilia—ancient artifacts and rare baubles and trinkets.  A beautiful, silver colored chandelier hangs from the ceiling in luminescent elegance, sparkling with the light of the sun.  At least one chandelier adorns every hallway in the castle, as does a long velvet carpet running down the middle of the floor.  A look of sheer refinement and distinction is what Edge Geraldine wants to convey in the eyes of his visitors, which also speaks very loudly of his extravagant and expensive tastes.  Nothing's too good for me, he always thought.

The wind blows ever so softly against his face as he and Danson step onto the main balcony of Castle Eblana.  The air is crisp and refreshing, instantly rejuvenating whatever spirit Edge had lost while training just moments ago.  The light heat from the sun feels like a warm caress across his skin.  A white bird, small enough to fit in ones hand, lands on the balcony wall, right in front of Edge, chirping a beautiful tune while flapping it's wings.  Edge looks upward…nothing amongst the empty blue…not a cloud in the sky.  

(Something better happen soon or someone's going to have to shoot me.)

            "I'm not quite sure what to make of it," Danson points a bony finger towards the meadows where a battered, old airship resides.  "But I think Mr. Pollendina is up to one of his little, how should I call it, experiments?"

            Edge squints his eyes as he glimpses Cid's stout form with someone else standing next to him.  They seem to be doing something to the base of the airship.

            "What the hell's that old man up to now?"

            All of a sudden, Cid and his companion are off to the races, heading towards a small, wooden barricade about thirty yards away.

            "Runs pretty quick for a man of his stature, don't you think?"  Danson watches with amusement as Cid and his skinny counterpart dive behind the barricade.

            "You don't think…" 

Edge's question is cut off as an enormous explosion rips through the hull of the beaten airship, first shattering the base and then shooting upwards through the main deck.  The airship begins to implode with great ferocity, wooden pieces and debris fly in every direction.  Finally the mast comes crashing down, splitting the remaining portions of the airship into two until all that's left is a flaming pile of splintered wood.  

Cid and his partner in crime dust off pieces of debris from their clothing, and stand up to marvel at their accomplishment.  A high-five and a "yahoo!" quickly follow.  

"Well that's a nice mess they've made, wouldn't you say Danson?"

"A very nice mess indeed Master," Danson scratches his head.  "Should I, uh, send out a cleaning crew to handle it?"

"No, I think Cid would be more than happy to do it himself."  Edge gives off a sly grin.

"I think we might have some visitors."  Danson shades his eyes from the sun as he looks at three black dots in the distance, hovering above the horizon.  The dots quickly get larger and begin to take shape.  Edge reaches into his garb and takes out a small pair of binoculars.

"Is it the Mrs.?"  Danson asks.

"I think so," The crease between Edge's eyebrows starts to grow.  "That's our banner on the side of the middle airship, but why is she being flanked by a pair of Red Wings?"

"Trouble you think?"

"Dunno…looks like we're going to find out."

(Looks like this might not be such a boring day after all.)


	13. The Maid and The Child

Chapter 11:  The Child and The Maid

            "I knew you'd follow me into the portal little prince," says the woman.

            "Where are we?"  Puvol looks around at his surroundings.  The site is one he has never seen before.  The forest that he now stands in is filled with darkness and emptiness.  The yamaran trees, the largest in the world, stand over four hundred feet in height.  With their thick growth, the yamarans literally eclipse the sun from view, leaving a few strands of light to find their way to the grassy surface of the forest turf.  The immense gathering of trees is filled with eerie and creepy noises, like that of many bugs and tiny critters.  After getting a hold of his whereabouts, Puvol fixes his eyes on the woman who stands before him.

            "You don't really need to know where we are little one," she says to Puvol.  The woman in the maids' outfit leans down to caress Puvol's cheek.  "You're a very special little child you know."

            "I'm no child maid lady." Puvol scowls.  He can feel the cold metal of the woman's star shaped diamond ring pressing against his skin.

            "Oh of course not," she smiles.  Her dark blue eyes are warm and comforting.  "I'm sorry if I offended you."  The woman gives Puvol a kiss on his forehead then stands upright.

            A light breeze blows through the forest, and for a moment all is silent.  Then a sparkling beam of light emanates from the ground surrounding the woman's sandaled feet.  The beam starts to bend and twist around her entire body.  Puvol, in surprise, takes several steps back, tripping on a rock and landing on his behind, but he never takes his eyes off of the woman.  The bright, red beam envelops her, and as quickly as it appeared, the light fades away.  

The woman, once garbed in a maids' outfit just moments ago, now wears an ensemble which some would say, is a little more revealing.  A white, silk, strapless top cropped just above her stomach, fits tightly around her.  Puvol tries to figure out how she keeps that little piece of cloth on her body, but then guesses that it must be those big 'things' sticking out of her chest.  Her black skirt is cut about three inches above her knees as a thick, white belt holds it at her waist.  The belt, which looks to be made from the skin of some kind of animal, is adorned with an array of star-shaped diamonds and many brown, leather pouches.  A plum colored cape is draped across her back, attached to a few small rings on a silver collar that's wrapped around her neck.  Most noticeably, her long, black hair tied by a purple ribbon, is now a light ginger color.

            "You like my little trick?"  She smiles with her soft, crimson lips.

            "Uh-huh," Puvol continuously scans her body up and down, from her black leather shoes, to the large pink pendant on her silver collar.  "Can you do that again?"  His eyes light up, hoping to see another fantastic quick change. 

            The pale skinned woman bends over and pats Puvol on his head.

            "I'm sorry sweetie, but I'm afraid that was a one time only show."

            "Aww…" Puvol slowly stands up and brushes off his black tunic, his head just barely reaching her midriff.  "What's your name?"

            "My name is Nora."

            "That's a pretty name," Puvol's curiosity continues.  "Do you have a last name?"

            "It's Madrestyre."

            Puvol tilts his head and contemplates.

            "I don't like that name, I'll just call you Nora."

            Nora giggles and says, "That's fine Puvol.  Now you must come with me."

            "Where are we going?"

            Nora grabs Puvol's hand in hers.

            "You'll see little one."

            With that, the child and the beautiful woman known as Nora, hand in hand, take a walk through the dark expanse of the yamaran forest.

            "I guess we walked the wrong way Syl," Jero takes a look across the deserted beach.  "Looks like we're on an island, though it's hard to tell with all those damn trees blocking our view to the north."  (looks creepy in there).

            "I see a lot of little islands over there," Sylia points her finger southward.  "I think we're in the Islands of Vermeil.  Remember when we went to Silvera a few months ago with mom and dad, and we flew over the islands?"

            "Yeah I remember," Jero tucks his hands into his pants pockets, his blonde hair blowing with the ocean breeze.  "But that would mean we traveled halfway around the world Syl."

            (Yes it would.  Could this all be real?)

            Sylia doesn't say a word.  Her thoughts at the moment are nothing but scattered puzzle pieces.  Where exactly are we?  Where did the portal come from?  How do we get home?  Where's Puvol?  This last question brings Sylia back from her thoughts.

            "Let's go."  Sylia removes the tie binding her golden hair, leaving it to blow free in the salty air.

            "And where are we going?"  Jero arches an eyebrow.

            "To find Puvol of course."  Sylia turns and walks towards the forest of yamarans, leaving a trail of footprints in the sand behind her.  A flock of white birds fly overhead toward the dense forest as if leading the way.

            "In there?  We'll never find him in that stuff."  Jero slowly trails his sister.

            "Come on Jero.  We won't find Puvol or find a way home just by standing at the beach making sand castles."  Sylia quickens her pace causing Jero to quicken his.

            "Alright, alright," Jero thinks about the situation for a bit and says, "Who put you in charge anyway?"

            "I'm the oldest." 

            "Only by two years," Jero argues.  "Besides, I'm the man here."

            "Man?  You're fourteen for crying out loud.  You wouldn't be able to stare down a black tipped banderwulf without peeing your pants."

            "Shit you!"

            "You watch your mouth Jero," Sylia stops in her tracks and points a threatening finger at her younger brother.  "If you continue to argue with me, I'll just cast a silence spell on you and make you shut up."

            That was it.  Jero had nothing more to say.  The only thing he could do was to keep a scowl on his face until they reached the edge of the forest.  For a few moments, the two Harvey children could do nothing but stare into the enormous group of yamaran trees.

            "Well, uh," Jero mutters.  "You first."

            "I thought you were the man."  Sylia says with a side-glance.

            "Um, yeah," Jero's mouth begins to dry up.  "And I'm telling you to go first."

            Sylia answers Jero with a roll of her eyes and steps into the forest with her brother in tow.  Jero couldn't have been closer to his sister than if he were a fly on a wall.  Every step is taken with caution due to the darkness surrounding them.  With the small beams of sunlight breaching the forest's 'shell' here and there, it's hard for their eyes to adjust.  As they get deeper into the forest, the temperature cools down considerably, leaving them to wrap their arms around their bodies.

            An hour later, they wonder to themselves if they're going around in circles.  All of a sudden, a sharp wind blows over the two siblings, their clothes blowing rapidly with the strong gusts.  Sylia grabs Jero by a sleeve and guides him to another part of the forest where the wind isn't as strong. 

"Where did that come from?" Jero asks.

"I don't know." Responds Sylia. (didn't feel natural). 

The two travelers take a break to catch their breath.  A loud howling noise echoes through the forest, followed by another, and then another.

            "What the hell is that Syl?"  Jero's breathing is slightly erratic.

            "Maybe it's a black tipped banderwulf."

            "Don't joke like that Syl." 

            "I'm not joking dummy."

            Sylia quickly jerks her head to the left.

            "Did you see that?" she asks Jero.

            "What?"

            (What do you mean 'what'? It was huge for crying out loud!)

            Another howl.

            "Take a look around Jero."

            A large shadow flits through the forest with lightning speed.

            "Ok, I saw it," Jero, wide eyed and sweating, begins to breathe rapidly.  "What do we do?" he whispers.

            The snapping of a twig to the right causes the youngsters to shake in fear.  That sounded close, Sylia thinks to herself.

            "Well whatever we do, we better do it fast," Sylia's eyes pan around their location.  Unable to detect any more moving shadows, Sylia decides that it would not be in their best interest to just stay where they are.  "You follow me." She whispers.

            Jero takes out a small dagger from a sheath attached to his belt.

            "Right behind you."

            The two take off blindly through the dense forest, running with tired legs and worn out spirit.  Another loud howl reverberates in their ears.  Behind them, Sylia and Jero can here the speedy steps of something chasing them, brushing through the bushes and the leaves of the low-lying branches.  They race through the yamaran trees with reckless abandon, cutting themselves on the branches and the thorns of the bushes spread all around.  Sylia looks back for a second to catch a glimpse of whatever's tracking them, and as she faces forward again, a black shadow with glowing red eyes leaps at them head on.

            "Duck!" yells Sylia.

            The shadow barely misses them as the teens continue to run.

            "Whatever it is, it's huge!"  Jero observes.

            (It's a damn banderwulf!  It must be!  Sylia got that thought stuck in your head!)

            "Just keep running!"

            The howling continues as do the footsteps behind them.  The brush seems to take life as if everything is moving around them all at once.  With their lungs working overtime, and their hearts racing, it is the fear of seeing whatever it is that's trying to kill them, that keeps them running.  Their legs, feeling like soft rubber, start to falter under the stress.  The sounds of their killer behind them grow louder with every second.  Its howl is piercing and dreadful.  Sylia stumbles forward but Jero is quick to catch her.

            "Come on Syl; gotta go!"

            A harsh growling noise from their pursuer speaks loudly of blood and jagged teeth; ripped flesh and screams from little children lost in the forest.  A saliva filled roar tears through the darkness surrounding the Harveys.  They're gaining fast, Jero thinks to himself.

            With the little strength they have left, the young teens start their run once more, jumping over rocks and ducking under large branches.  Their clothes torn in many different places, and with blood trickling from small wounds, Sylia and Jero finally catch a glimpse of an opening.

            (We're saved!)

            "I see light Jero," Sylia speaks through bated breath.  "We can make it."

            Two gigantic shadows appear from the sides, keeping pace with the running teens.

            "They're gonna box us in Syl!"

            "We're almost there Jero, just keep going!"

            Suddenly, the shadow to their right leaps slightly ahead of them then makes an enormous jump towards their general direction.  With a quick snap of his wrist, Jero throws his dagger at the red-eyed monster with amazing accuracy.  The small blade hits its mark, causing the shadow creature to collapse and let out a horrendous cry of agony.

            "Just a few more yards." Sylia whispers to herself; the light ahead of them grows larger with every footstep. 

            A grotesque growl from their other pursuer ignites an extra burst of speed in the two youths.  It's a race to see who can get to the clearing first.

            (We're going to make it!)

            "Jump Jero!"

            As the two children break through to daylight, their fears turn into sheer terror.  The cliff in front of them begs them to stop running, but the momentum in their stride keeps their posture forward.  Sylia and Jero scream in fright as they fall over the precipice, their arms and legs flailing about.  Their bodies hit the rocky slope, causing them to wince in intense pain, more pain than they've ever felt before.  Sylia could have sworn she heard a couple of snapping sounds, like the twig that alerted them to the presence of their pursuers.  The horrendous howls of the beasts that chased the children through the forest goes on and on like a broken and hideous song, as the young siblings continue their unstoppable descent down the hard, jagged slope.

            After their easy trip through the forest, Nora and Puvol walk quite a distance across a barren plain.  The forest of yamarans is like a blot in the distance, blurred by the waves of heat being generated by the sun.  The cracked ground below is like a never-ending jigsaw puzzle.  Puvol tries to play a game by trying not to step on any of the cracks, but fails miserably.  They walk for what seems like forever compared to their trip through the cool, breezy forest.  Puvol had enjoyed the way Nora tamed the banderwulves in the forest with an orange talisman she keeps in one of her brown, leather pouches.  The two travelers finally come to a stop in front of a large, gray mountain that covers nearly a third of the island.  

Before them, a dark cave beckons the two to enter its gaping mouth.  With her hand still clasping Puvol's, Nora leads him into the mountain's black hole.  A few meters in, their path becomes illuminated with the flames of a few scattered torches decorating the cave walls.  Puvol feels a sweat coming on as he and Nora travel farther down the seemingly endless tunnel; the air is harsh and thick.  For one of the few times in his short life, Puvol stays completely silent and behaved, not out of fear, but wonderment.  Never has he experienced something so exciting as he has within the past few hours.  Just when it seems like Puvol and Nora will be walking forever, the path comes to a stop, ending at a small wooden door.  Though they look old, the hinges on the door seem to have been oiled recently, and the circular knob, shaped somewhat like the head of a serpent, looks to be brand new.

Nora kneels down on the dirt floor to come face to face with Puvol.  He can smell the sweet scent of bangleberries, along with a flowery perfume that creates a feeling in Puvol that he's never known before.  Nora's calm, blue eyes meet with the brown eyes of the young prince, causing Puvol's heart to beat just a little faster.  A bright red blush graces his cheeks as he begins to fiddle with his fingers.  Nora warmly smiles at her companion, as she grasps his hands within hers.

"There's much to tell and teach you Puvol," Nora says in a soft and soothing voice.  Her eyes turn to the aging door; Puvol's eyes follow suit.  "Do you want to know what's beyond that door?"

Puvol, without a word, just nods.

"Then open the door, my prince."

Puvol releases his hold on Nora's soft, white hands, and faces his body toward the wooden door.  A slight fear of what might be beyond the door grips Puvol for a short time, but that is quickly replaced by his strong curiosity.  With a deep breath, Puvol reaches toward the serpent shaped doorknob with his left hand.  As he wraps his hand around the knob, Puvol feels a magical warmth course through his body for a split second.  After the warm feeling has passed, Puvol turns the knob and slowly opens the door.  An enormous gust of wind blows the door wide open, sending Puvol back a few feet.  

As the wind dies down, Puvol takes a look through the door and eyes a stone staircase leading downward.  Nora watches as Puvol takes a cautious step through the doorway, keeping his eyes on a light located at the end of the staircase.  Nora takes to her feet and follows the little Harvey downward.  When he reaches the bottom, Puvol becomes awe struck at the vastness of the room he now stands in.

"Wow," if Puvol's eyes were any wider, they'd probably fall out of their sockets.  "This is a lot bigger than the courtyard in our castle."

The stone walls surrounding them are lined with racks of weapons and shields, books and battle armor, potions and pouches.  A large number of wooden dummies are spread across the entire expanse of the room.  Puvol runs across the stone floor to the middle of the room, looks upward, and slowly spins in place to examine the glorious ceiling.

"The whole thing is so sparkly."  Puvol observes.

"Yes it is," Nora says as she makes her way toward Puvol.  "A very long time ago, this mountain was a fiery volcano that erupted once a month.  The inhabitants that used to live on this island had to relocate because the eruptions were too intense.  The ground would shake uncontrollably and spews of hot lava would occasionally hit their villages," Nora stands next to Puvol, following his gaze to the sparkling lights above.  "The volcano eventually became dormant and it's been that way for over a hundred years now."

"Dormant?" asks Puvol.

"That means it stopped erupting sweetie," Nora answers, then continues her story.  "Then many decades ago, a group of men began to mine the volcano and found many of these jewels inside," Nora sticks her hand out to show Puvol her diamond ring.  "Those men are the ones that created this room.  They figured it was the perfect place to be because of the sunlight that comes through from the opening in the volcano's top.  

"But one day, a terrible cave-in occurred killing most of the miners in this very room.  One of the survivors was a magician who accompanied the miners.   He used a very powerful spell to protect himself, and a few others, from being crushed by the large rocks.  Seeing the situation as too dangerous to continue, the remaining workers decided to take what jewels they had and evacuate.  

"The spell that the mage had cast not only protected the workers, but it somehow fused many of the jewels together on the ceiling, which is what you're looking at right now."

"So the light outside comes in through the opening up there," Puvol points upward.  "Then it comes through the sparkling ceiling that reflects that light all over the room."

"Very good Puvol.  I call this the 'Diamond Chamber'."  Nora spreads her arms out as if showcasing the room.

"Will this place cave in again?"  Puvol asks with a sense of worry in his voice.

"No little one," Nora says with a smile.  "I've made sure of it."

"Cool," Puvol scratches his head and asks, "So what are we doing here?"

"We're here to begin your training."

"Training? What kind of training?"

Nora bends down to meet Puvol's gaze with her blue eyes.

"Your training into greatness.  You don't know it yet my prince, but you were born into this world for only one purpose," Nora places her hand under Puvol's chin.  "And I will tell you what that purpose is, if you allow me to complete your black magic training."

Puvol's eyes burst wide open in excitement.

"Can you teach me Meteo?"

Nora's crimson lips smile wide.

"Oh sweetie, I can teach you things even more powerful than the mighty Meteo; things no one else in the world can teach," Nora brushes her hand through Puvol's brown, flowing hair.  "Will you join me?"

"Yes!" Puvol doesn't hesitate for a second as he jumps into Nora's body, wraps his arms around her neck, and pokes his nose through her ginger hair to smell the sweet scent of bangleberries and perfume once again.


	14. Lucid Dreams

Chapter 12:  Lucid Dreams

            "Well, do we go up or continue eastward?"  Gerald Vestbrook shields his eyes from the sun as he looks upward, toward the peak of Mt. Ordeals.  He curses himself quietly for not wearing something more appropriate for traveling in the intense heat.  His white, collared shirt is riddled with dirt, as is his black slacks.  His blonde hair sparkles with small beads of sweat as his arms gleam with the same salty wetness.  He holds onto the reins attached to the chocobo underneath him as it stretches out its legs and lets out a soft cooing noise.

            Porom looks to the east across the grassy plains as her chocobo bends over to pick on a few of the bugs at its feet.  

            "I say we continue down this way."

            "What makes you say that?"  Palom asks as he stretches his arms out and yawns.

            "I don't think the Elder would have sent us up Mt. Ordeals if he was planning on going up there himself," Porom adjusts the straps of her backpack for more comfort.  "Assuming he went east, we could probably catch up with him while riding the chocobos."

            "Sounds good to me."  Says Lyrca as she undoes her ponytail to let her long, brown hair breathe for a while.

            "That's also assuming the Elder hasn't gotten onto a chocobo himself."  Gerald counters.

            "Nah, he wouldn't get on one of these feather-heads."  Palom pats the head of his chocobo while saying this.

            "Why's that?"

            "The Elder's never ridden a chocobo in his life," Porom says.  "He doesn't believe in using animals for transportation and such.  'Just leave them be' is what he always says."  She reaches into her pocket for a bar of candy and takes a bite out of it.  Little crumbs fall onto her green tunic, one of many that she keeps in her wardrobe.

            The heat of the sun begins to intensify as it reaches its peak in the sky.  Lyrca puts on a straw hat with a wide brim to help protect her from the searing rays.

            "Shall we continue then?"

            Gerald takes a moment to clean his glasses with a handkerchief from his back pocket, and then says, "Let's go."

            They each steer their chocobos eastward, and with a little nudge of their feet, the chocobos begin a slow march.

            "Stop!"

            Three of the travelers turn to look at the fourth—Palom.

            "What's wrong?"  Porom asks, sensing that something's amiss.  She looks at their surroundings, toward the plains to the east, back west where they came from, to the south at a small alcove of trees, north up Mt. Ordeals, then back to her brother.

            "What is it hun?" Lyrca asks. 

            "I have a major twitch."  Palom stares at the alcove of trees to the south, looking for something, anything—movement, shadows, flickers of light.  He squints his eyes in an attempt to peer through the dark foliage.

            "Should we be worried?"  Gerald takes out a dagger tucked under his belt.

All of a sudden, the chocobos begin to buck and squeal.  Their wild movements seek to dethrone their riders.  The four travelers hang on to their reins for dear life while trying to keep their chocobos under control.

            "Whoa girl, take it easy," Gerald calms his ride down, lightly stroking it's feathered neck.  "Everyone all right?"

            "Yeah, I think my bird's ok."  Porom turns to Lyrca, who looks back at her and nods in acknowledgement to say that she's fine.  Lyrca then turns to Palom who continues his piercing gaze into the trees.

            "I see something."  Palom reaches for the hilt of the short sword strapped to his back.  His grip around it is so tight due to the adrenaline that the muscles between his fingers begin to ache.

            Porom follows her brother's sight, searching for whatever it is that—

            Wait—

            There it is.  A pair of blinking yellow eyes floats in the darkness.  _Not so much yellow_, Porom thinks to herself, _as it is golden_.

            Lyrca nervously guides her chocobo behind Palom, seeking refuge and protection from whatever beast that's lurking amongst the trees.  She's never been in a fight in her life, never been in any real danger, and she's never had to worry about that…until now.  Her blue eyes widen with terror, her face cringes with fright.  An intense shiver shoots through her body with rapid speed, up and down, up and down.  A sudden need to vomit overcomes her, but that is quickly repressed as she covers her mouth with her hands.  She can feel her heart pounding with increased speed, as her lungs breathe in even quicker succession.

            Gerald stands ready to throw his dagger at any moment as Porom takes hold of her magic rod.  The glass ball at the top of the rod glows a bright blue, pulsing rhythmically to the tune of the magic flowing through it.

            The glowing eyes get larger as they make their way through the thick brush towards the four travelers, and suddenly with a large leap, it's out in the open.

            "AAHH!  What is it?!"  Lyrca screams as she covers her eyes with her hands.

            The other three release a nervous laugh, prodding Lyrca to take a peek at the horrible monster that jumped out of the trees.  She lets out a huge sigh of relief as she watches the most beautiful cat she's ever seen take a lazy stroll across the grass.  

            "Aww it's so cute," she says.  "I've never seen one with such a nice looking coat of fur."

            "Me neither," replies Porom.  "In fact I've never seen an ordinary house cat this far away from civilization."

            "Must be some kind of inbreeding thing or something," Palom, after realizing he was still clutching onto the hilt of his sword, releases his grip on it.  "I mean check out the eyes.  I've never seen those kind of eyes on any animal."

            "Perhaps it's good luck that we've run into this very rare little creature," Gerald puts his dagger away.  "Maybe now we'll find the Elder in no time."

            "Speaking of which, we should continue on."  Porom taps her chocobo toward the east.  

The other three follow suit leaving behind the cat with the golden eyes.  It stands still, watching them, one by one along the base of Mt. Ordeals, its eyes glimmer in the sunlight.

**Interlude**

"This journey will be the death of me."  The Elder says half jokingly to himself.  He slowly bends down and takes a seat under the shade of an oak tree, laying his magic staff at his side.  

His entire body feels like it's on fire.  Probably just the heat of the sun he thinks to himself.  But it was more than that.  He's old, and his body just can't handle the pressures and stresses of such a long journey in the burning blaze of the sun.  His calf muscles have tightened up on him continuously, and his body is dehydrated.  

"Just a half a mile more and I'll be at the stream," he whispers.  "Then it's off to Haywood."

The Elder closes his eyes for a second, to let his weary lids rest.

_Clank.  Clank._

"What was that?"  The Elder opens his eyes and is greeted by a sight that shocks him to the very core of his being.

A line of people in single file drag their tired feet through the plains, not more than twelve feet away from him.  Their legs are chained together as well as their arms.  The Elder sits wide-eyed as he looks east and west, the line seems never ending.  About every five yards there is an astonishing array of deformed beasts with whips in hand, striking the ground to get the line of prisoners to move faster.  Every so often they would whip the people themselves, just for the fun of it.

There are continuous moans and sounds of weeping.  Bloody scars grace the bodies of most of these unfortunate people.  Their tattered clothes and dirty faces, the smell of people who haven't bathed in weeks…

The Elder tries to stand up to help them, but he can't move.  An attempt to reach for his magic staff also fails.

"Am I dreaming?"

No one seems to pay him any mind, as if he isn't even there.

_Clank.  Clank._

--More weeping, more moaning.

"Don't worry people," says a nasty, husky voice.  It seems to be coming from the other side of the human train.  "You'll all be put to good use."

The Elder squints his eyes, trying to get a look between people.  He can see a shadowy form begin to take shape, but that's all.  That and a wicked looking smile.

"I know what you're trying to do Ghilwood Llewelyn."

The Elder's heart seizes for a moment leaving him gasping for breath.

"This is a dream.  I know it is, it's got to be."

"I know what you're doing and it won't work old man.  The time has come for new leadership.  It's time for new blood, new order.  Chaos will reign, Ghilwood.  You are the final obstacle, and once you pass on from this world it will be I who assumes command."

"I will stop you," Ghilwood whispers in spite.  "I still have life.  You underestimate me."

The sinister shadow laughs hysterically.

"Noble words from someone who should have been dead long ago.  I know more about you than you think…Ghilwood.  I'll let you finish your little journey.  It will be your last hurrah before your final breath.  I shall savor the moment when your body lies dead in the ground—nothing more than rotting flesh for the maggots.  History will remember the day when chaos ruled once again.  Chaos will live within the hearts of every soul, every child, every town and village.  And all that you built, all that you fought for so valiantly and foolishly will bleed.  Your world will be turned into one of rape and pillage.  Chaos will live!"

_Clank.  Clank_.

"Chaos! Chaos! Chaos!"  The chants grow louder and louder.  If the Elder could cover his ears he would, but his arms weren't moving.

"Chaos! Chaos!"

The shadow moves with great swiftness.  In a blinding flash he is face to face with the Elder—nothing more than blackness with a bright white smile.  The Elder feels something pierce his chest and looks down.  The dagger in his heart is splattered with his blood.  The shadow's hand pushes the dagger deeper, all the way to the hilt.

"Chaos, Chaos…" the shadow whispers, in sync with the chants.

"NO!" The Elder screams himself awake.  Though under the cooling shade of the oak tree, he is sweating all over.  His breathing is harsh, and a little wheezy.  He brings his hand to his chest, feeling for the rip in his skin, or maybe the cold dagger itself.  Nothing.  Nothing but a sweat-laden tunic.  They're getting worse, he thinks to himself.  The dreams are more intense now.

"I must hurry."

The Elder immediately grabs his magic staff to help lift him off the ground.  He takes out a small cloth from the pouch at his side and wipes his face of the sweat.  With the dream still firmly planted in his mind, the Elder continues his trek to the stream ahead, and then onward to the town of Haywood.

**End of Interlude**

"What the hell is it?!  Is it the cat?!"  

"Palom?!  Are you all right?  Palom!"

"I can't see it?!  What is it?"

Porom tries to answer Gerald's cry, but she's finding it very difficult to speak at the moment.  Everything happened so fast that there wasn't time to react to it.  Palom's already knocked unconscious with a deep gash on both his legs and streaking wounds on his back, Lyrca has completely lost control of her emotions and is riding towards Palom's limp body, her wide-brimmed hat falling to the ground carelessly, and Gerald is being attacked from behind while still atop his chocobo.

One thing was for certain.  It was the cat attacking them, but it's not the same one—or is it?  It has the same golden eyes and beautiful fur coat, but this cat is no ordinary house cat out for a lazy stroll across the field.  This cat is a cougar, the largest one Porom's ever seen.  Its huge claws raked its way along Palom's back and legs, and now its thick, white fangs are ready to sink their way into Gerald's flesh.

Porom takes hold of the magic rod at her waist, but it's caught on the strap of her belt.  She tugs and toils with it frantically.

Gerald's chocobo bucks and spins, scared to death by the vicious beast pouncing on it.  Gerald grasps the reins tightly, but he can feel it slipping through his sweat soaked hands.  The cougar's heated breath feels like a burn on Gerald's neck.  Its loud roars pierce his ears, sending a sharp, shrill shiver through his entire body.  One hand loses its grip, and Gerald tries desperately to grab a handful of feathers on the chocobos back.

Meanwhile, Lyrca is at Palom's side trying to wake him from his unconscious state.  His wounds are horrid, and his breathing is shallow.  Lyrca, with a traffic load of thoughts flooding her mind, holds her hands out over Palom's back, and tries a healing spell the Elder taught her.  Her trembling hands begin to glow a light blue as she whispers magic words.

In the meantime, Porom has freed her rod from her belt strap, just as Gerald is thrown off his chocobo.  The frightened bird jets off toward the east, kicking up clouds of dust with every thrust of its feet.  Gerald gathers his senses and reaches for the dagger tucked underneath his belt, but it's not there.  He looks around his immediate surroundings, searching for his only weapon.

Porom raises her steel, magic rod and begins a white magic spell, which she hopes will buy Gerald time to escape.

Lyrca's hands glow brighter as she continues to heal her badly wounded fiancée. The bloody cuts across Palom's back begin to seal themselves shut.

Gerald spots his dagger sitting against a rock near the base of Mt. Ordeals.  He quickly crawls on all fours, hoping upon hope that he can reach it before it's too late.  Unfortunately it is too late as the cougar pounces on his backside and rips its jagged teeth into Gerald's right leg.  Gerald screams out in pain and tries with all his might to throw the cougar off his back.  But the fiery feline is too powerful as it pushes Gerald back to the ground giving him a face full of dirt.  The cougar's long claws dig deep into the small of Gerald's back—he utters another painful scream.  With the other claw, the maniacal beast flips Gerald over and rakes across his chest, ripping clothing and flesh, spraying blood across the dirt. 

In a last ditch effort, Gerald raises his left leg and kicks out with all the strength left in his weary body.  He scores a good hit under the cougar's chin, snapping its neck backwards and sending it reeling for a moment.  That's a moment long enough for Porom to complete her spell as a magical white mist streams forth from the orb atop her rod.  The mist surrounds her weakened companion, forming a solid barrier around him.

The enormous cougar gathers its senses, lets out a bloody roar, and releases an intense orange beam from its gaping mouth.  The beam strikes hard against the protective barrier, which gives way immediately, exploding into a hundred pieces and sending Gerald flying backwards.  He hits his head against the stone base of Mt. Ordeals and loses consciousness.

Now the cougar turns its attention to Porom.  

Seeing no way out, Porom takes a defensive stance against the creature, holding her magic rod up in front of her.

"Lyrca!  Get back to your chocobo and ride back to Mysidia!  I'll hold this thing off while you go get help!  It's our only chance!"

Lyrca looks back to Palom, torn between staying and going.  _Will I ever see you again?_  She asks herself.  Hesitantly she gets up and makes a mad dash for her chocobo who's gone into hiding amongst the gathering of trees to the south.  She grabs hold of the reins and leaps atop her ride.  The chocobo is wary of going out into the open, as it knows what's out there.  With a lot of prodding, the chocobo is on the move and heading west towards Mysidia.

"You're not going to take me down that easily."  Porom raises her rod threateningly at the feline menace.

_"It's going to be easier than you think little one."_  Growls the cougar.

Porom is taken aback by the sudden speech of her attacker.

"What are you?"

The cougar just smiles and hunches over, ready for the attack.

Lyrca continues to ride, onward across the fields, sweat streaking down her face.  Her clothing is torn and dirty; her mind is racing—faster than the chocobo beneath her.  The wind feels fierce against her body, like shards of glass cutting across her form.  There is nothing on her mind now but Palom—his face, his laugh, everything about him.  She prays that he's all right_.  I'll get help from Mysidia and everything will be okay_, she thinks to herself_.  It'll all go back to normal…just a few more miles…calm down…everything's fine Lyrca…keep going faster damn girl…_

_What's that…something behind me?_

"It can't be," she whispers to herself.  "It can't be that fast…Porom was supposed to stall it…" 

The sounds behind her get louder, closer…

(ready to pounce my dear)  

"This isn't happening, no.  It's just my mind…just my mind…"

She dares not look back for fear that the cougar will be looking right at her through bloodshot, golden eyes; its mouth gaping with strings of saliva, and blood dangling from its ferocious teeth; its claws ready for the kill, for the tearing of flesh and bone.  She swears she can hear the creature panting, breathing down her neck.  Or maybe it's just its piercing stare, its menacing gaze, like when you can feel that someone's watching you.

Lyrca's curiosity gets the better of her as she takes a quick glance backwards.

Nothing.

Her short look is not short enough though as she doesn't see the large bush in front of her.  The chocobo leaps high into the air to clear the foliage, bending its neck down to dodge a low lying branch from a nearby tree.  Unfortunately, Lyrca is caught completely off guard.  The branch clotheslines her across the chest, sending her flying off her feathered ride and into an uncontrollable fall.  Her body twists and turns three or four times before slamming into the ground with a thunderous thud, cracking a few ribs and her right wrist in the process.  Tears pour freely from her blue eyes as the pain is so excruciating, that she is unable to move or even scream.  Lyrca tries desperately to get to her feet, but she's finding it very difficult to even breathe correctly.

A fierce and blood curdling roar fills the field to Lyrca's dismay.  She can now here the padded paws of the cougar getting closer, more pronounced.  Hope leaves her body with every second, until the beast is upon her.

(no more running…no more wedding)

Lyrca looks up, straight into the open mouth of her killer; its mouth filled with the stench of dead animals mixed with blood and saliva; its golden eyes shimmer and sparkle, cutting through her like an invisible spear.  That is the last thing she sees before everything goes black…

…that, and the unmistakable roar of her soon to be murderer.


	15. The Harveys Part 1

**Chapter 13:  The Harveys—Part 1**

            "I never thought it could look worse than Baron, but I guess I was wrong."  

The Captain of Cecil's flagship takes his helmet off as he surveys the terrible ruins of Fabul.  Not a single building was left without its stone façade molested.  The castle itself was practically torn in two, baring large chunks of its foundation to the sun. 

"What do we do now my liege?"

Cecil leans heavily on the ships banister, his mind toiling in anger and dismay.  _How could we let this happen?_  He thinks to himself.  _We fought so hard, and yet_…

(and yet you let your guard down and got caught napping!)

"My lord?"

"We head north.  Depending on when the battle ended, the survivors may already be at Cardigan."

"Cardigan?"

"The fall back point.  It's an empty little village that was built for just this situation.  King Folster thought of it years ago."  Cecil looks to the north at Mount Saragan, where the village of Cardigan lies at its base.

"How do we know anyone survived at all?"  The Captains voice is droll and pessimistic.  

Cecil points to the west end of Fabul, where a pair of large, wooden crosses stands pronounced.

"I think that's proof enough."  

Now Cecil's thoughts trail to Yang and his family.  Throughout the years, Cecil has tried to keep in contact with his old friends from the war.  But with his duties as King he's been unable to see them as much as he'd like.  It's been quite a while since he's seen Yang, and Cecil hopes that he isn't one of those casualties that are buried under those awful looking crosses.  

"Turn us north toward Mt. Saragan," orders the Captain to his helmsman.  "And the rest of you stay at your positions.  An attack can come at any time, so be alert."

Cecil stares blankly as the ship makes its turn north.  His mind is full of questions once again.  His inability to find any answers to them is tearing him apart.  For the first time in a long time, he feels like he's walking through this whole ordeal blindly and aimlessly.

_Where are these attacks originating?_  He asks himself.  _If they can assault two kingdoms on both sides of the world with this much force, they can do the same anywhere else.  Who's next?  Who hasn't been hit yet?  Eblana, Toroia?  More importantly—who's behind all this?  Who's strong enough to be able to control all those dragons the way they do?_

As the airship leaves the ravaged remains of Fabul behind, Cecil looks out across the horizon, feeling as if his title as King means absolutely nothing now; that he is nothing more than a bit player in a grand and elaborate war that will see the entire world crumble before him.  

"What do you mean she no longer lives here?"  Rosa's voice trembles slightly, as her only hope for finding her children fades away.  

Upon reaching Toroia, Rosa belted out of her airship and headed for the sage's shop in the middle of town.  Unfortunately the shop was closed down with the windows and doors boarded up.  She desperately looked around for anyone, to ask if they knew where she lived.  That's when she came upon an old man who was turning the corner of the shop.

"The Madam Declerq moved away from Toroia about a year ago to help raise her grandchildren," the lanky, old geezer adjusts the thick spectacles on the bridge of his bony nose while giving Rosa the bad news.  "I'm sorry if you had business to do with her, but she was never really all there in the head if you ask me.  People pay Madam Declerq to hear her tell them some far-fetched baloney life story of theirs…I tell you Miss, you'd be better off staying away from that loony old woman."

"Do you know where she moved to?"  She asks, paying no mind to the old man's little rant on Madam Declerq.

"Well, if I heard correctly, which is a problem nowadays since my hearing ain't what it used to be.  I got so much hair in my ears that it'd take a hedge cutter to clear it away.  Damn old age I tell you!  Got this arthritis too…makes it hard for me to even hold onto my cane.  Can't even eat soup without spilling some on me, and I have to eat soup because my teeth can't chew well, you see?"  He opens his mouth to show Rosa a handful of rotted, crooked teeth.  "What's a pretty lady like you want with that hag anyways?"  The short, wooden cane in his hand shakes steadily.

"Do you know where I can find her or not?"  Rosa's patience is quickly wearing thin, and the urge to grab the old man and shake the spectacles off of him washes over her.

"I believe her grandchildren live in Damcyan.  At least that's what I heard, but my hearing ain't so good.  Did I tell you about my hearing?  Damn old age, I tell you…"

Rosa bolts towards her airship, leaving the old man to continue his story alone.  If his eyes were as good as his ears were, then he probably wouldn't notice she was gone.

Halfway through town, Rosa comes to a halt.  She looks left and right, down the busy streets and walkways.  An eerie feeling comes over her, like someone's watching her.

(can you see me?)

She looks behind her—just the old man still standing there, talking to no one in particular.

(peek-a-boo, I see you my dear.)

An unnatural heat caresses her body, flowing over her like a hot breeze, as if someone was breathing all over her.

"What is that?" she whispers to herself.  A sense of death and dread comes over her, as if someone or something is piercing her heart with an intense, and overwhelming gaze—a gaze of hatred and madness, of blood and sinew.

Unable to discern any immediate danger, Rosa continues onward to her airship and to the town of Damycan where she hopes she will find the answer to the whereabouts of her three missing children.

"Ow!  That hurts Sylia!"

"I told you to stay still Jero!  I swear, you listen to mom and dad all the time, why don't you listen to me?"

"I'm your brother, I'm not supposed to."

Jero lies flat on his back while his sister continues to heal his wounded legs.  It's been hours since their extreme tumble down the jagged slope, and the two Harvey children find themselves extensively battered.

Sylia was the first to awaken and she immediately felt an intense pain coursing through her chest and legs.  Jero was still unconscious, lying on his side just a few feet away with his back to her.  She took out a few pieces of kinger root from one of the leather pouches attached to her belt, and in an instant she was feeling a little better.  The magical properties of the root allows minor wounds to be healed quickly, but for the more pressing injuries she would need to use her white magic abilities.

There was no doubt in Sylia's mind that her internal wounds were far greater than the external ones—bruised or fractured ribs, sprained ankles, and perhaps a couple of torn muscles.  She could see that Jero was still breathing regularly, so she took the time to heal her own wounds first.

Her mother had taught her many a magic spell since she was eight years old, and Rosa had told Sylia that she could now be considered a tried and true white magician.  Sylia has spent many days in Baron's hospital wing, tending to wounded soldiers and the like.  Broken bones and torn ligaments were no problem for the oldest Harvey child, and those skills would come in to play right here, right now.

It took a lot of energy and patience to heal her wounds, and by the time she completed her final task, Jero was slowly awakening.

"Sylia!" He shouted, not knowing she was lying right behind him.  His voice is filled with pain.  A few agonizing sobs escaped his mouth as he tried to reach for his legs.

"I'm right here Jero."

"I think my legs are broken…I…I can't move my feet Syl!"

"Jero, just relax and bear with the pain," Sylia slowly sat upright; her muscles were stiff and tight.  "I'll be there in a second to heal you."

"Hurry up, it really hurts!"

Sylia started to crawl toward her brother, all the while feeling small twitches and spikes of pain from her just healed wounds.  It would be a while before she and Jero could walk straight without limping.

"Sit still Jero while I prepare my spells," Her hands hovered over Jero's right leg.  "The faster I do this, the faster we can get out of here."

Now, with almost all of Jero's wounds healed, Sylia starts to feel weak and tired.  Never has she had to do so much spell casting in such a short amount of time.  The fluorescent glow around her hands is diminishing with the lack of strength in her weary body.

"Do you think we'll find shelter before the sun sets Syl?"  Jero asks as he chews on a kinger root.  "I mean, the only light we're gonna have around here is the moon, and we don't know what the hell is gonna come out into the open at night."

"I don't know Jero.  As soon as we can start walking, we'll find out."  Sylia tries to concentrate as hard as she can, hoping she can finish what she started.

Jero arches his neck downward and scans over his once battered body.  The bloody cuts to his arms and legs are nothing more than soft, red blotches on his skin, while the searing pains in his legs and back are practically gone.  He then turns his attention to Sylia, watching her with her eyes shut, focused and intent on healing him.

"Syl?"

"Yes Jero?" She mutters back.

"I know we don't treat each other in the best ways, but…I'm glad you're my sister."

Sylia opens her eyes and looks down at her brother; the glow around her hands dissipates.  

"Same to you Jero."

They share a rare sibling smile.

"You can continue healing my leg at anytime you know."

"Oh, sorry about that."

Sylia restarts her healing spell and Jero continues to chew down on his kinger root, as the sun continues its descent toward the horizon.


	16. Haywood

**Chapter 14:  Haywood**

            "What'll it be gramps?"  Asks the stout little bartender over the wooden counter.

            "Water please."  Replies the Elder.

            "That's it?"  The bartender grabs a glass and fills it with water from a plastic pitcher.  "Sure I can't interest you in a fine wine or ale?  Or maybe something to give you a boost, like a shot of whiskey?  You sure look like you could use some."

            "Water will be just fine."  The Elder's weary voice is harsh, and all he wants is something to quench his thirst.

            "All right, to each his own."  The bartender sets the glass of water atop the counter in front of Ghilwood and waddles his way to the end of the counter to assist another customer.

            The Elder closes his eyes for a moment.  Sleep has been hard to come by lately, tossing and turning to the devilish dreams and heart wrenching nightmares; leaving him shaken with cold sweats and bouts of nausea.  What he wouldn't give to have a fluffy pillow on this counter to lay his tired head upon.  Instead he sets his elbows upon the counter and brings his head to his hands, to ease the pain in his mind, to—

            _*flash*_

A vision suddenly breaks through to his eyes—the faces of Palom, Porom, then Cecil and Kain, Rydia and Edge…eyes with tears of blood…

            _*flash*_

            Another vision.  A golden dragon slumped forward, ready to attack, its scales rippling with intensity, its wings bursting open…suddenly it morphs into something else—the shadow being with its wide, sparkling grin (Chaos!)…

            _*flash*_

            A woman garbed in white, her clothing tattered, torn, and bloodstained, is bent over lifelessly.  Her pale white arms are spread, tied to a wooden cross…

            _*flash*_

            "Hey!"

            The Elder sits up straight, his eyes wide in shock, his breathing erratic, and his fingernails digging into the counter.

            "You okay Mr.?"  The voice is soft and soothing to Ghilwood's ears.  

He looks at the woman standing next to him—jet-black hair, brown eyes, smooth creamy skin, she looks to be in her mid forties.  Her red outfit accentuates the curves of her voluptuous body.  One hand rests atop the Elder's arm while the other balances a tray of empty, but used glasses.  _She's obviously a waitress here_, Ghilwood thinks to himself as a stream of sweat trickles down his cheek.  The touch of her hand is warm and calming, allowing the Elder to ease the tension in his body and to gather his senses.

"Yes, I'm fine," he tells her.  "Thank you for your concern."

"I've never seen you around town before," says the waitress, setting her tray down on the counter.  "In this small town everybody knows everybody, so you must not be from around here."

The Elder picks up his glass of water, his hand shaking with adrenaline and old age.

"I'm from Mysidia actually.  I am the Elder of the Holy Council there."

"Really?  I'm impressed," she takes a seat next to him at the bar.  "So we have ourselves a top notch official of the church here huh?  You on some kind of pilgrimage?"

"No, no, I'm afraid it's something completely different," He takes a huge gulp of water followed by another, and sets his glass down.  The waitress leans over the counter for the pitcher of water and refills the Elder's glass.  "I'm actually looking for an old friend of mine who's supposed to be residing here."

"Who might that be?  I can probably tell you where to find this friend of yours."

"His name's Urbinus Stalinsworth."

"Oh, the old blacksmith huh?  Unfortunately he doesn't live in Haywood anymore."

The Elder's face seems to sag considerably at the news.  Having come all this way, this was not the news Ghilwood wanted to hear.  His body slumps forward in defeat.  His body starts to ache again, as his mind seems to shut down for a moment.

"He's not far though," she assures him.  "He built himself a small home about five years ago.  It's located just two miles north of here, overlooking the Symian Ocean.  He's old, but that guy can still work as hard as anybody I've ever seen before."

The look on the Elder's face livens up a bit.  At least he wouldn't have to travel too far.

"I thank you for the information young lady.  I'm most fortunate to have crossed paths with you."

"Well we don't normally get visitors here, we're very remote and out of the way.  Not many of us venture off too far from here.  Most of the families in Haywood have been here for over seven generations, and have stayed here."

"You as well?"

"No, I'm one of the few exceptions.  Most of my family passed away years ago and I've been making it on my own for over half my life.  I've moved to so many different towns and villages, it was nice to finally settle down here."

"And when was that?"  The Elder asks, finding it quite nice to be able to have a normal conversation with someone after being alone for so long.

"About ten years ago.  I wanted to find someplace quiet, you know?  Someplace where there was hardly any action, just peace.  Moving all over was very hard on my son and I wanted him to grow up in a good environment."  She reaches for the pitcher and pours herself a glass of water.

"What of your husband?"

"Oh I'm not married," she waves her hand quickly at the notion.  "Never have been.  I'm a single mother…I guess that must be hard on your ears being a man of the church."

The Elder smiles wearily.

"Not at all my dear.  It's not my place to judge you, just so long as you're happy with your situation in life."

A sigh of relief washes over the waitress' face.  

"Oh I'm definitely content with what I have.  My son is all grown up—I had him when I was very young.  He's actually moved with his girlfriend to the town of Silvera.  Apparently her father was able to get him a good job in securities over there."

"Hey Bella!" Yells the bartendar from the end of the counter.  "Break times over sweetheart, get back to work."

"I hear you Hinkly."  She replies.

"Boyfriend?" The Elder inquires.

"No way," Bella whispers.  "He just calls all the girls around here sweetie.  He's nothing more than a chauvinistic piglet with big bosoms on his mind and an even bigger weight problem."

Ghilwood lets a small chuckle escape from his lips.  He watches Bella get up from her seat and pour him another glass of water.

"What's your name, Elder of Mysidia?"

"Ghilwood…Ghilwood Llewelyn."  He's never spoken of his true name for decades to anyone.  Even the members of the church referred to him as nothing more than 'The Elder.'  Yet for some reason, this particular woman makes him feel very comfortable.  _Perhaps it's her voice or the way she smiles at me,_ he thinks to himself.  _Or maybe it's her straightforward manor._

Though their time spent talking to each other is very brief, Bella kind of reminds the Elder of his late wife Annabel.

"Well Ghilwood, where are you staying tonight?"

"I think I'll start on northward to Urbinus' house."

Bella shoots him a stern glance.

"No you won't Mr. Elder.  Not in this night and not out in this cold.  If the freezing weather doesn't stop your heart from beating, the night creatures will surely tear you apart.  Around this area, you have to be wary of the many flying beasts that come out to feed at night.  During the day it's all safe and sound around here, but once the sun goes down you can hear the screeches of those ugly birds in the forest and near the mountains.  Most of them nest along the ridges upon the mountain tops."

The Elder was sure that those beasts wouldn't be a problem as long as he wore his amulet, but he decides not to argue with the pretty barmaid.  _Besides, it might be good to get some sleep on a real bed for one night,_ he thinks to himself.

"You're staying with me tonight Ghilwood.  No ands, ifs, or buts about it.  You can sleep in my son's room."

Though taken a little off guard by her proposal, the Elder was quite relieved that he wouldn't have to pay for lodging, as his supply of gil was all but nil.

"Are you always this kind to strangers?"

"Well I don't consider you a stranger anymore Ghilwood.  Besides, I like you.  There aren't too many men around here with your manners I can tell you that.  They know all too well that in this small town they can get away with being crude and insensitive, because they're the only way us ladies can get laid.  

Bella catches herself and makes a correction.

"Oops, I mean make love to.  So anyway, you just wait right here.  I'll be off of work very soon."

The Elder watches as Bella the barmaid walks off to the backroom of the tavern with her tray of empty glasses in hand.  

_Interesting young woman_, he thinks.  He drinks once more from his glass while thinking of the far off past—days of his youth and of his wife, and of their love, which was tragically cut short.

Bella awakes to hear strange noises echoing through her house.  She looks out her bedroom window—the night's moon is still shining bright.  She gets out of bed and wraps a blue cotton robe around her body.

She tilts her head out of the bedroom door.  The sounds are coming from her son's room, where Ghilwood is sleeping.  She tiptoes to the entrance of the other bedroom and presses an ear to the door.  Sounds of moaning, mumbling, and a panic stricken voice—_the Elder must be in trouble_, Bella thinks.

She quietly opens the door and peaks through the crack of the doorway.  She can see the Elder's silhouette, outlined by the shine of the pale moonlight.  Ghilwood's body tosses and turns, his voice is trembling as he mumbles words and names.

"He's having a nightmare."

Bella streaks to the Elder's side, shaking him and calling his name.  Ghilwood awakens with a fright.  The sweat on his face streaks down freely from his temple to his chin.  His breathing is heavy and his body trembles, as it's done every night he's hit with those blasted nightmares.

Bella takes the Elder's head within her arms, holding him close to her bosom, to let him feel the warmth of her body and the calming effects of her breathing.  She caresses his back soothingly and lightly kisses him on his forehead.

"It's ok now, it's over."

"No, it's not over," the Elder gasps.  "It's only the beginning.  The beginning of _chaos._"

"Shh, I'm here Ghilwood," Bella's cradling seems to have an effect as Ghilwood's body relaxes in her arms.  "Come here."  She lays down on the bed, bringing the Elder with her—his head still within her arms.  Bella sets his head in the cleavage of her breasts and tells the Elder to sleep.

Ghilwood wrestles with the many thoughts bursting through his mind.  The intense nightmares are more dreadful and bloody.  He's not sure how much longer he can take them if they get any worse.  He's liable to go insane if they don't stop.

Bella sifts her fingers through the hairs on the back of Ghilwood's head, and now he was thinking of her—her beauty, her voice, the way she puckers her lips from time to time when she talks, the way it feels to be between her breasts.  He hesitantly wraps an arm around her waist, seeking security.  She responds by placing a hand on his arm in reassurance.

A great peace falls over the Elder; one he hasn't felt in ages.  His eyelids become heavy, and in moments he is fast asleep—a sleep which, for the first time in a long time, will garner no images of death, or blood, or weeping faces; but a sleep that will yield happiness, fulfillment, and enjoyment—the last good sleep before the darkness of death takes him over.


	17. Preparations at Eblana

**Chapter 15:  Preparations at Eblana**

            "General Chalmers, take your men into town and fortify it strongly.  Make sure you set up as many armaments as possible around the perimeter and within the town square.  I also want sentries patrolling the southern woods as well as the plains as far as a mile all around; Captain Jensen, I need you to take about a dozen men to the ramparts and set up as many cannons as possible.  Make sure that you are well stocked with ammunition and I also want a few signal flares up there as well; Admiral Sternguard, I want at least five airships patrolling the skies at all times, setting up a perimeter at a three mile radius.  If you see anything, anything at all coming this way, you signal us immediately—I don't care if it's friend or foe."

            Edge Geraldine commands his leading officials with authority and confidence; a stern, solid voice that marks the maturity that's grown on him in the past seventeen years—the voice of a man of action; the voice of a king.

            His soldiers salute their leader, and head off in various directions to take to their tasks.  After news of Baron and Fabul arrived from Queen Rydia, these men feel for the first time, that they may see battle.  Most of the soldiers in Eblana's army were mere boys  and girls when the Zeromus War plagued the planet.  Now as men and women, after years of extensive training in all types of fields, in all arts of war, they are battle ready, but not battle tested.  And deep down inside, that fact has Edge a bit worried.

            "Danson," Edge addresses his most trusted advisor.  "I want you to send messengers throughout the kingdom.  I want the airship manufacturing plant shut down, all the schools are to be closed as well as the library, I need the underground shelters checked of their stock—food, water, clothing and such—I want the town square to be sealed off to the townspeople, and I want everyone to pack up their necessities in preparation for an evacuation."

            "An evacuation?  But to where my lord?"

            "To the underground tunnels beneath this very castle.  The entrance is located in the second basement level, near the cellblocks.  There's also another entrance in town, in a small empty shack next to the armory.  Any sign of an attack and we'll have all the townspeople gather in the tunnels, and out of harms way."

            "You think it's wise to cause such a panic amongst the town?"

            "Baron and Fabul have already fallen, and I will not let my kingdom go about toiling in their daily routines, only to be caught off guard by this malicious menace that's tearing these communities apart."

            "As you wish."  With that, Danson is off to relay the King's message, his long, silk cloak flowing behind him.

            Edge looks out one of the war room's northern windows that overlook the town.  _Guess it's not going to be a boring day after all_, he thinks to himself.  _I'm just glad Rydia made it out alive._

            "Edge?"  Rydia walks towards her husband with bulky Cid Pollendina in tow.  "Are you going to send anyone to Fabul?  Maybe we should send word to Toroia or Agart?"

            "All my military resources are being used at the moment.  I need to focus my attention on protecting my people first," he keeps his gaze outside the window as five airships take off to begin their surveillance.  "If what you told me about the other attacks are true, then we're going to need every single soldier and airship we can muster.  I lost my kingdom to ruin once, and I'm not going to let it happen again; not after all we've accomplished."

            Rydia takes to heart the tone in her husband's voice.  In years past, his outward voice had garnered that of an outlandish and boastful youth; carefree in conscience, and oblivious of his rights as royalty.  But now that egotistical boy is hidden behind the façade of a man made ruler, with a deeper, stronger voice, with character and charisma, with solidarity and security.  

The way he speaks, the way he carries himself, in a way reminds Rydia of Cecil.  She saw the difference, all those years ago, when she first met the dark knight from Baron—lost and unknowing, youthful and careless—and then saw the vast change in Cecil, when he ascended the ranks and donned the glorious pageantry of the paladin line.  His leadership was second to none, his bravery was matched by none other…and no other could have saved the world from Zeromus, but he.

            "If Cecil's on his way to Fabul, and he's probably already there, he'll know what to do about the situation," Cid pulls up on the belt around his waist to lift his pants up to a more comfortable level.  "As for me, I'm off to Baron."

            Edge glances over in slight surprise at the burly mechanic.

            "We could use your help here as well big guy."  Edge remarks.

            "I know, but you guys are pretty well stocked, and you've got a fine bunch of engineers here.  Hell, they were trained by the best after all," Cid points a large, stubby thumb to his chest and smiles proudly.  "Besides, I think they could use some help with the relief efforts, and I can help repair whatever airships they got left.  The place probably looks like shit on a hot summer day.  I'm kinda dreading going back; seeing what's happened; but it's something I have to do.  It's my home after all."

            "We'll pray for you and Baron."  Rydia clasps her hands within Cid's.

            "Put in a prayer for the rest of the world too would ya?"  Cid smirks slightly.  He looks over Rydia's shoulder to Edge who, with a wave of his hand, says a silent goodbye to the engineering master.  After a nod in compliance, Cid makes an about face, and is off to his airship.

            Rydia watches as Cid leaves the war room, wondering whether she'll ever see any of her friends again.  Ever since Cid has come to work in Eblana, he's treated Rydia like a daughter—telling her stories, teaching her about the things he's learned in his time, shooing away any teenage onlookers trying to get a glimpse of the beautiful, young Queen.  Cid would always be there to console her in grief and to listen to her problems, just as any father would have.  The time they spent together sometimes made Edge a little jealous, but Cid paid it no mind.  He knew the young King was full of pizzazz and spunk, but most of it was for show—a big ego booster.  But he also knew that Edge was now mature enough to not make a big deal out of the whole situation.  

Cid never married and never had children of his own to take care of.  His passion for his work got in the way of all of that, which is something that he regrets from time to time.  He loves children and he's always wanted some, but he never found the right woman to make that dream come true.  Or rather, "the right woman never found me," he always said.

Rydia turns to Edge with tear-filled eyes and a somber look on her face, as if she knows she's never going to see Cid again.

Edge opens his arms to her and she dives head first into his chest, breaking down into sobs.  Her silky, green hair flows across Edge's cheeks, her arms are closed tight around his waist.

"I know you're scared Rydia," he caresses her pale cheek with the back of his hand.  "But we've been through this once before, and we've come out of it victorious.  You must believe that we can do so again," he lifts her head to face him, and looks into her watery eyes.  "Once we start believing we can't win, then we've already lost."

Rydia nods in compliance; sparkling droplets cascade like little waterfalls down her face.  She wipes them away with her glittering sleeves and tries to sniffle her worries away.

"Every step of the way…you and me, right?"  Her voice trembles with emotion.

"You know it baby."  

Edge smiles to her in reassurance and comfort, and she returns it with a loving kiss and a gentle hug.

**Interlude**

"Where am I?"  Palom's voice is barely audible.  He finds his throat a bit scratchy from inhaling some dirt when he was thrown off his chocobo and throttled to the ground.  He presses a hand to his forehead, which at the moment, feels as if it were caught in a vice—one with an extra large grip.

"This is the worst hangover I've ever had," Palom turns on his side, gritting his teeth from the sharp pains to his back, like a hundred needles piercing him all over.  A slight nauseous feeling comes over him, but quickly subsides as he eyes an indistinct figure sitting in front of him.  "Lyrca, I know I told you I wouldn't drink that much anymore, but you know how it is with the guys," he mumbles to the figure.  Palom finds it a little hard to speak as his mouth and cheeks are red and swollen, like most of his battered body.  "I can't help myself sometimes…I'm sorry sweetie."

"Just rest, Palom of Mysidia."

Palom's eyes widen in surprise at the realization that the voice does not belong to Lyrca.  He turns his gaze back to the cloaked figure.  He tries to discern the person's identity, but his vision is slightly blurred by the puffy eyelids he received in battle.

"Who are you?  Where am I?  Where are Lyrca and the others?"  

"They are all safe.  You have no need to worry about them," the voice is slightly soothing; a softer tone which echoes that of a young woman.  "As for where you are—you are in a shallow cave at the eastern base of Mt. Ordeals.

"Mt. Ordeals…" Palom begins to remember what had transpired before he was knocked unconscious—the search for the Elder, the cat with the golden eyes.  "That damn cat…knocked me off my bird…tore my legs to shreds."  He reaches down to feel the wounds on his thighs, but there are none.

"I've healed most of your wounds already.  The four of you are very lucky to be alive right now."

Palom uses his fingers to open his eyes wider in order to get a clearer view of the cloaked woman.  If this were a lighter situation, this would look very comical and would no doubt deserve a reprieve from Porom.

"I've seen you before somewhere," Palom can just make out a few facial features—brown eyes, slightly tanned skin, crimson lips, all framed by her glossy black hair.  "You were in the town square at Mysidia last night.  You were watching me by the water fountain."

The cloaked woman remains silent.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Kara," she answers.  "I am a sister in the magical order of the Herrizah located to the north of Damycan."

"Herrizah?  Ok…what is that?"  Palom releases his eyelids as the strain to see the woman was causing more pain than good.

"The Herrizah is an ancient order of female magicians born over a thousand years ago.  For a great while the order was broken for reasons unknown, and has resurfaced about a decade ago.  We started in Toroia, sharing in each other the love of magic, both white and black, and created a sisterhood to protect those in need.  However, our magical specialties hang far above those that you normally know of.  Our magic is that of a new breed; a sort of mixture between the two extremes; and far more powerful than either."

"So you're from a woman's club huh?  No testosterone allowed?"

"Do you mock the order?"  Her voice is a little stern, but in more of an amused sense.

"Considering the situation that I'm in at the moment…no of course not," Palom slowly sits up with little regard to the pain still coursing through him.  He can see the lighted opening to the cave, as his eyes start to slowly regain their vision.  "But I am wondering something," he looks to his right, and sees his three companions lying side-by-side, unconscious but breathing normally.  Whatever physical injuries they were dealt by the cougar are nothing more than red discolorations on the skin, like slowly fading memories.  "What is a woman of the order of Hersa…"

"Herrizah." The woman corrects him.

"Yeah.  Well, what are you doing here, and why did you save us?"

Kara stands from her perch and approaches Palom.  Her long flowing cloak folds under and around her as if it were alive.  Her scent is sweet and a little tingly to the nose, but very nice according to Palom's standards.  He knows he's smelled that fragrance before but he can't quite grasp the name of it.  As Kara kneels beside him, Palom's male instinct leads his eyes in search of a V-neck and some cleavage, but to his disappointment, the darkness of the cave and his puffy eyes obscure his vision of her.

"Right now," she says.  "All you need to know is that you're all in danger, and that my presence here is a blessing to you and your friends.  The time will come when you will need to be heroes once again."

Palom stares into her brown, piercing eyes.

"Rest Palom.  You're definitely going to need it for all the days to come."

**End of Interlude**

"No, you're not coming with me and that's that, ya hear?"

"But I want to help too Cid," Hanlen keeps close to Cid as they make their way to the airship launching area.  "Besides, there's nothing for me to do here if they're going to shut the town down, and send everyone underground like you said."

Cid stops for a moment a gives Hanlen Wallister a stern glance.

"Now look kid, remember all those stories I've been telling you about the war and all the shit that happened?  Well, the sequel to that story has begun, and I don't know how it's going to end; which means you're better off staying here with your family where it's safe…for now anyways."

"But Cid…" Hanlen starts, but doesn't know how to convince Cid to take him along.

"Look, that's the best way that you can help right now.  Keep an eye on things over here and prepare for the worst.  If you want to become a great mechanic like the fantastic Cid Pollendina, the first step is keeping yourself alive.  You got that kid?"

Hanlen lowers his eyes, conceding the fact that he can't follow Cid back to Baron.  He nods in agreement and lifts his arm to shake Cid's hand.

"Will I see you again?"

"You better believe it ya little runt.  There's still a lot of shit I gotta teach ya, so you better be prepared."

After they share a smile and a quick hug, Cid makes his way up the ramp of his airship; hoping upon all hope, that what he just told his most promising young student, wasn't a lie.


	18. Kara's Dreaded Story

**Chapter 16:  Kara's Dreaded Story**

            "So what do we do now?"  Gerald asks as he finishes wrapping a few bandages around his right leg.  Never in his life has he felt so weak and wasted.  He's had to fix the bridge of his glasses with thin strips of tape; miraculously his lenses weren't shattered in his fight with the cougar.  He curses to himself silently, telling himself that he will never look at a cat the same way again.  "There's no telling where the Elder's gone and it would be near impossible for us to find him now."

            "We have to keep trying," urges Porom with a weary voice.  She looks out the entrance to the cave, staring into the darkness of the night, listening to the evening music of the crickets in the brush.  It's been many hours since she and the others awoke from unconsciousness, and none are in a position or condition to continue with their search for the Elder.  She massages the back of her neck in an attempt to soothe the painful aches of their battle.  The malicious cougar with the golden eyes left its mark on her in various places on her body—welts to her arms and back, bruised bones, and a splitting headache.  "We can't just abandon him; leaving him to fight his battles alone; not after all he's done for us, for Mysidia, and for the world."

            Porom looks down at the Elder's history book, the one given to Palom by the other members of the Holy Council.  A magical light aids her, illuminating the pages of the book she's been reading for the past few hours.  Her headache detracts from her ability to comprehend what she's reading, but she fights it with resiliency.

            "At least our supplies are still in tact," Lyrca, sitting next to Palom, opens up her knapsack for some of the canned rations inside.   "I can't believe we were able to survive that horrible creature."

            "Indeed," Gerald agrees and turns his attention to the cloaked woman known as Kara.  "We can't thank you enough for what you've done for us Kara."

            Kara just nods, fixing her eyes on Porom and the book.

            "What have you learned from that piece of history that lies in your hand?"  Kara asks, still wrapped in her black cloak.

            Porom strays from her reading to address Kara.  Though the cloaked woman has kept to herself the entire time, leaving her story a complete mystery, Porom can't help but trust her.  Not simply for the fact that she saved all their lives, but for something deeper, more illusive.  To Porom, Kara exudes a sort of aura that is soothing, calming.  Her eyes are a deep brown that seems as black as the cloak surrounding her, but in that darkness Porom can see a very distinct light, sparkling with a very pronounced essence of someone who is good, not evil.  Palom, Lyrca, and Gerald, she knows, share that same feeling.

            "So far from what I've read," Porom explains.  "There was a great war that took place hundreds of years ago.  There's a map on this page that shows what the world looked like back then.  The makeup of the continents is vastly different, but I notice that most of the kingdoms and towns back then, were located where a lot of our societies live today.

            "It's interesting how a lot of the things I'm reading seem to coincide with our world.  The greatest kingdom in the land back then was a place called Corneria, which is located on the same continent and about the same location as Baron.  And the Village of Mist stands in the same spot where a structure known as the Temple of Fiends used to be," Porom continues to sift through the pages as the others listen intently to her findings.  "Another co-relation involves the airships.  They actually had the technology back then to create one, but for reasons unknown, it was destroyed after the war was over, and another was never built for over two hundred years."

            "I wonder why that was."  Lyrca remarks.

            "Maybe they all got airsick or something."  Palom quips as he greedily eats from his own can of rations.  He shares a silent laugh with himself, knowing full well that no one thought his remark was funny.

            "According to this book," Porom continues.  "There was a great evil plaguing the planet.  An enormous creature known as Chaos—a devilish being born from the fires within the world itself—sought to rule all the lands.  He employed various beings from across the globe, those who would do his bidding without question, and sent them off to wipe out entire civilizations."

            "This guy's sounding a lot like Zeromus," Gerald reaches into his backpack for a ration of his own.  "Or maybe Zeromus was like, 'Chaos part II'."

            "During the madness, a group of men and women formed an alliance—a fellowship of sorts—with one simple goal.  They traveled the entire world from the Crescent Lake to the Castle of Ordeals, from the Sea Shrine to the Mirage Tower, and even to a castle floating in the sky to combat this evil and turn away the powers of Chaos.

            "Before they could reach this monster, they had to pass through several trials and battle through a band of enemies known as the Four Fiends, who represented the four elements—fire, water, earth, and air.

            "Together, these band of brothers and sisters were known throughout the world as the Light Warriors—those who, in the end, would shatter the darkness of Chaos and bring peace and light back to the planet.  That's just about the gist of it."

            Porom closes the dusty, old book and lays it on the ground in front of her.  A deafening silence ensues with only the grand, musical whims of the crickets to accompany it.  A few droplets of rain can suddenly be heard falling upon the grassy plains outside the cave.  

            "So what does this mean?  Why did the Elder give you this book?"  Lyrca asks.

            "Have you not figured it out yet?"  Kara's voice is very distinct in its tone, like a teacher watching over a student who has spent too much time on a math problem.

            "There's another war coming?"  Gerald stops eating his rations while thinking the story through.

            "More than that," Kara continues.  "Chaos has returned."

            "What?!"  All four companions say in a surprised and shocked unison.

            "He hasn't fully regenerated yet.  His spirit and soul lives within another for now…but soon…very soon, he will become what he once was," Kara looks out the cave as the rain has turned into a downpour, dampening the grass quickly.  "Unfortunately, it's hard to keep a being such as Chaos down permanently.  As you have just heard from Porom's reading, Chaos was created from within the planet, from the molten fires of the world's very core.  Its life force comes from the planet itself, feeding its insatiable appetite with power and will, and as long as a portion of Chaos exists in the world, he will eventually become whole again."

            "How is this possible?"  Palom stands dumbfounded by what he's hearing from the mysterious, young woman.  "How can the planet make this thing and keep it chugging through all the centuries?"

            "In the very beginning, this planet gave birth to everything that inhabits it—the trees, the fish in the ocean, dogs, pigs, humans—but not everything it creates is necessarily beautiful, or useful, or good natured.  It's part of a balance, a circle of life if you will.  When Chaos was supposedly destroyed, the Light Warriors thought nothing more of it.  They came home to a hero's welcome, with flags of victory flown high atop the castle walls of the kingdom of Corneria.  They were oblivious to the evil still living, as they relished in their hard won freedom, abounding to the tunes of the trumpets being played for them, and to the songs that would soon be written about their accomplishments.

            "Chaos though, was still alive.  His spirit, his soul entered the body of one—a Light Warrior.  Unbeknownst to him, it resided, sleeping silently and waiting.  Chaos' spirit passed on from generation to generation, like a gene through the family line, gestating and growing slowly in power, waiting for the right moment to arise once again."

            A flash of light illuminates the heavens, followed by a roll of thunder that echoes throughout the bleakness of the night's sky.  The trees sway violently as the strong winds become harsh and fierce, forcing the tree trunks to bend unwillingly.  A tiny squirrel scurries through the entrance to the cave, shaking off droplets of rain from its brown bristles.

            "Not to sound paranoid or nothing," Palom says.  "But I think someone should check the eyes on that little rodent."

            They all hunch over toward the squirrel and squint their eyes to try to get a good look at the unexpected visitor.  The bushy-tailed rodent looks back at them curiously with its soft, brown eyes.  A small sigh of relief echoes through the shallow cave.

            "What was that animal anyway?"  Gerald says with a mouth full of rations.  "That cougar had to be the same cat that we saw just moments before right?"

            "Its name is Drakhen," Kara explains.  "A very marvelous creature…one of a kind actually."

            "Marvelous?!"  Lyrca exclaims.  "You can't be serious!"

            "That thing has a name?"  Palom picks the history book up from the ground to sift through the pages—not really to read it as much as to keep him busy.

            "Drakhen is actually a golden dragon from the far north, beyond the town of Toroia and through the Angoli Woods," Kara pulls back the hood of her cloak, releasing her raven hair from its embrace.  Her long, black strands blow freely from the stormy winds.  "Golden dragons are the most powerful of the species.  They're able to use the combined abilities of every kind of dragon, not to mention the fact their sheer size makes them extremely formidable.  This particular dragon is an enchanted creature, with the ability to morph into any animal it so desires; a cat for instance."

            "If it's so powerful, why didn't it just attack us in its dragon form?"  Porom asks.

            "Given its immense weight and the fact that you were all riding atop a flock of chocobos at the time, Drakhen probably thought it best to transmogrify itself into something more suited for the chase."

            "How did this big lizard get the ability to change in the first place?"  Palom asks, looking up from the book in his hands.

            "He was given the power by Zeromus."

            "You're kidding!" Gerald exclaims.

            "Not at all.  You see Zeromus wanted someone to lead the attack on the world, and when he found out the whereabouts of Drakhen, he sent Cecil's brother Golbez to negotiate with it.  After Drakhen was given the powers which now are bestowed upon it, it never entered the fray, deciding it was best to lay low and let things play out," Kara reaches into a tiny bag attached to a belt of deep red.  She takes out a piece of bread, breaks it apart, and lays it on the ground for the damp, little squirrel to eat.  "Zeromus would have punished Drakhen, but by the time he figured the dragon wasn't going to aid him, you, Cecil, and all the others were hot on his trail.  Zeromus knew that he couldn't win the fight without a stronger partner at his side, and Golbez wasn't fulfilling his duties to Zeromus' desire.  What Zeromus didn't know, was that Drakhen was waiting for something…or rather someone."

            "What do you mean?"  Asks Lyrca, listening intently to the story being told by the mysterious woman.

            "Drakhen is very ancient—over five hundred years old as a matter of fact—living through the ages as nothing more than an observer, searching for the right time to take action.  And now, it seems, it's found that time.  Drakhen, like most dragons, is very intelligent, and it knows what it wants and when it wants it.  Patience is a virtue when it comes to the species of dragons, and they use their time well."

            Porom's brow creases as a hundred thoughts flow through her head, coming together in one realization.

            "So you're saying that Drakhen was alive when Chaos began his reign over the world all those centuries ago, and now…"

            "And now," Kara intercedes.  "Drakhen has decided to enter the playing field, because Chaos has returned."

            The downpour of rain continues, joined with the bright lights and sounds of the thunder and lightning overhead.  The four companions can do nothing but stare at the woman named Kara, swimming through the story that she's just told them.

            'Chaos has returned to the world' is a statement that echoes and toils in their minds, constantly picking their brains and piercing their hearts.  Never did Palom and Porom think that they would face anything with greater power than the dreaded Zeromus; not in _their_ lifetime.  And now added to it—the cat, the cougar, the dragon—Drakhen.  

What could they possibly do to fight this new menace?  What they now know, is that they needed to notify Cecil and the others as soon as possible, forsaking the Elder to whatever task he's taken upon himself, and hoping that everything will be alright.  If what the woman in black has told them is true, then there was no time to waste.  As soon as the storm has said its peace, and left the cold monstrosity of Mt. Ordeals, they would be off toward Mysidia leaving the brown-eyed squirrel in the cave to eat his meal of small breadcrumbs.


	19. Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter 17:  The Unexpected Visitor**

            "Well, well, look at what these freezing winds blew to my door.  God, you look like shit Ghil."

            "Thanks for the greeting Urbinus," says the Elder dryly.

            "No problem old man," says the enormous man standing before Ghilwood Llewelyn.  "What's it been, twenty-five years or something?"

            "Something like that."  The Elder leans heavily on his walking stick, thanking the gods that he has finally made it to his destination.

            Urbinus looks around behind the Elder as if searching for something.

            "Where's your ride?  Chocobo…airship?"

            The Elder shakes his head.  Urbinus stares at Ghilwood for a moment, and starts to laugh heartily.

            "You're telling me you _walked_ here…from Mysidia?  You're full of it Ghil!  Haha!  And so, to what do I owe the pleasure of this reunion eh?"

            "I need you old friend."

            "Gosh, I wish more women would say that to me," Urbinus scratches at the thick, wiry beard growing across his chin, a smug expression washes over his face.  "Look I know we're close friends and all but I can't really help you there Ghil.  Hey, there's this sexy little brunette who works in the tavern in the town up north, nice big breasts, great curves.  She's into older men too—give you a nice ride eh?  Senior citizens discount?" 

            "You never stop do you?"

            "Hey I haven't stopped ever since you met me, why stop now?"  Urbinus smiles through the gray forest surrounding his mouth.  Standing at an even seven feet in height and weighing in at about two hundred and eighty pounds, Urbinus Stalinsworth is a mountain of a man.  His hot red cheeks shine of sweat and toil, his thinning gray hair speaks of his age.  He wears a pair of black rubber gloves and a leather apron of the same color, which amazingly fits around his great girth.  

In one hand, Urbinus holds what looks to be a very old and tired hammer, worn from many years of strenuous use.  The wood of the handle is splintered in many places, while the head, which looks big enough to kill a dragon with one blow to the head, is dented in numerous places.  

The other hand stretches out towards Ghilwood in greeting, to that the Elder takes warmly into his own hand.  Ghilwood observes their handshake, taking notice that his scrawny limb is totally eclipsed by the ogre-like hand of Urbinus who, at the moment, doesn't realize the amount of pain shooting through the Elder's hand until he hears one of Ghilwood's knuckles crack.

"Whoa, sorry there Ghil.  I may be getting up in age, but my grips never failed me eh?"

"That's fine Urbinus, it's quite alright."  The Elder massages his aching hand with the other.  The pain wasn't really bothering him as much as the ice like winds flowing through and around his body.

            "What the hell are you doing just standing out here old man, it's freezing cold even for a big body like me.  Why don't you come in and have a seat."  Urbinus pulls the Elder into his abode without hesitation and closes the door behind him.

            "Thank you Urbinus," Ghilwood helps himself to a seat next to the fireplace set in the eastern wall.  "And who are you calling old man?  You're not so young yourself you know."

            "Ghil, as long as you're a few years older than I, you're an old man to me."  Urbinus jokingly slaps the Elders back and lets out another jovial laugh, and then finds a seat across from Ghilwood.

            The Elder looks around at his surroundings—a cluttered, wooden worktable, more tools than he's ever seen in one room, bits and pieces of coal and ore, splintered shards of wood, metal shavings, nails and bolts littered everywhere, dirty clothes sprayed carelessly on the floor—

            "I know what you're thinking Ghil," Urbinus follows the Elder's eyes around his home.  "I'm living the high life baby."

            "Uh, that's exactly what I was thinking old friend."  The Elder gives Urbinus a wry smile.

            "What more could a guy like me ask for eh?  I got lots of space for my work, a house of solitude that overlooks the ocean; I got my tools, and most important—I can be as messy as I wanna be eh?"

            "Whatever happened to, uh, what was her name now?"

            "Dreselle?" Urbinus says, answering the Elder more than questioning.

            "Yes, that was it."

            "Nah, she passed away over twenty years ago."  He says gravely.

            "Oh, I'm so sorry Urbinus."

            Urbinus waves a gigantic hand in compliance.

            "Nothing that could have been done, nothing to be sorry for.  We had a wonderful time of it while it lasted though."  Urbinus looks into the fireplace and smiles, as if he can see Dreselle's face in it looking back at him, giggling innocently.

            "Anyway, enough about me," Urbinus leans towards the small oak table standing between them, picks up a pitcher of water and pours the Elder a drink.  "How's the holy life been treating ya?"

            Urbinus always questioned Ghilwood about his choice of joining the church.  Urbinus never thought he'd see the day when his best friend would choose a life of religion.  The two friends had made a deal when they were younger, to see the world together and live through some of their own carefree adventures.  The Elder was twenty-two at the time, and Urbinus was just eighteen.

Of course that was before Ghilwood was married and had a child, that was before his parents were killed in an unfortunate accident, and it was before the War at Bengis Ridge, and that in itself was an adventure all its own.  For most people, it would be easy to see why the Elder had chosen a life of religion, to help others and to ease people's pains through words and prayer, but for Urbinus, after knowing Ghilwood for so long, in a way he felt that his best friend had given up their friendship for this new life.  

            Urbinus could never have been a man of the church, or so he says.  His advice on life would be for everyone to 'get a life,' and that wouldn't have worked too well with the other religious figures.  He never had the patience to deal with everyone else's problems except his own, and he wanted a life of adventure, a life of freedom.  He eventually did live such a life on his own, but he always thought it would have been even greater, if his life long friend were with him every step of the way—Urbinus the warrior and Ghilwood the archer, what a pair!

            "There is something not right in the world my friend."  Says the Elder as Urbinus pours himself a glass of water.

            "I'll say!  Do you know how much a pair of gloves like these cost me?  I mean I know my hands are big, but this guy who makes them for me specially, he charges me almost five times the amount of a regular pair!  But I have to get it from him because he's the only one in the area who can do it, that lithe little bastard."

            "Something very grave…" The Elder stares into the fireplace as if in a trance, not really hearing anything Urbinus has said.  "Something very evil."

            Urbinus catches on to the Elder's vibes and takes on a more serious tone.

            "Okay, I'm listening Ghil."

            The Elder picks up his black pouch and pulls from within it the rock from Mt. Ordeals, and places it onto the table between them.

            Urbinus looks at the rock for a few moments, looks to his friend, and then looks back to the rock.

            "That's uh…that's a nice rock you got there Ghil.  If this is a present, I gotta tell ya, I got plenty sitting outside in the back.  They just gather moss and stuff and they make lousy pets.  I don't even use them to decorate my house." Urbinus pokes at it with his index finger.  "I guess if you walked all the way here from Mysidia for this…

"…Is it gonna blow up half the world or something?  Because if it is, I think you should take it back to where you got it from, which is away from me."

            "It's not the rock itself, it's what's inside."

            "Ah, I see.  Like a hard candy shell with a soft gooey center eh?"

            "Something like that."

            "Alright, I'll bite.  You want me to open this thing up?"

            The Elder nods and with that, Urbinus heads towards his worktable, taking in hand a chisel and a slightly smaller hammer than the one he was holding before.

            After taking a few seconds to size up the rock, Urbinus sets the chisel against the stone and gives it one good strike with his hammer, creating a very pronounced crack through the middle of it.  He then starts to chisel away slowly and more lightly around the crack, breaking off bits and pieces of stone, letting them fall freely to the table.  

            Urbinus stops for a moment as a soft green glow of light begins to emanate from the small cracks.  He looks towards Ghilwood tentatively.

            "This thing's not really going to blow up is it?"

            "No my friend."

            Urbinus releases a small sigh of relief and continues his work, chiseling away, breaking off more and more pieces of rock, spraying the small pebbles across the table.  The green glow grows stronger with every hit, with every crack.  The Elder looks on with grave eyes.  A few seconds later, and the stone is now half of what it once was, looking like a hard, gray peach with a glowing green pit in the middle.

            Urbinus sets his tools down on the table and sits back in his chair.  He stares at the stone, marveling at the green orb in its center.  

            "It looks metallic."

            "It is."  Replies the Elder.

            Urbinus reaches forward, then nervously draws his hand back.

            "It's safe to pick it up."

            Urbinus arches a hairy brow toward the Elder, then reaches out again and slowly picks the green orb out of its stone casing.  The orb is warm to the touch, sending soothing waves of heat coursing through his arm.  Urbinus can feel his whole body relaxing, as if he were sitting in a warm bath or lounging in a hot spring.  The green ball is big enough to fit comfortably within Urbinus' enormous hand.  

            "How did you know about this thing Ghil?"

            The Elder adjusts his seating while setting his black pouch back down to the floor at the foot of his chair.  He then takes in a deep breath in preparation for his story.

            "It all started with a dream I had about two months ago.  In this dream, I saw death, I saw blood; I saw the heads of friends and loved ones floating in mid-air, pale and lifeless.  I heard the sounds of battle, of monsters, of little children crying for their mothers who lay dead in the streets, in their homes, in their castles.  I could hear the sounds of chanting, over and over again, grinding into my head.  The skies were filled with enormous shadows, winged beasts of great magnitude, of awesome power.  They torched the villages; they poisoned the kingdoms and slaughtered the people.  The air was dense with smoke and ash, burning splinters of wood exploded like fireworks.  And there, in the middle of it all was this one…the shadow of a man, tall and lean.  I couldn't make out much more of him except for his smile—that bright, white grin that stood out amongst his blackened form—so horrifying and evil…very evil.  He just calmly watched over the madness, enjoying the sights and sounds of devastation and grief…the horror.  But it wasn't just him I saw.  Behind this sinister being was another shadow—lighter, more translucent—starting to take shape but not yet being whole.  It was enormous, about ten times your size Urbinus.  I could feel its emotions pulsing through my body, throughout the land, all around me.  My heart felt weak and my limbs were motionless.  I was nothing more than an observer, watching my brothers' fall like the leaves in autumn.

            "For many days after that I have had the same dream, playing out over and over again.  I would awake with my bed sheets soaked and my body trembling.

            "Then, about a week later, my dreams were different.  There was no death in these dreams; any salacious beast or untouchable shadows.  I was in a room lined with mirrors on the northern wall.  I could see my reflection in them—an old, gray, and withering man.  As I was standing in the middle of the room, I looked to my feet and there it was—the stone.  It glowed green, like the orb in your hand, and it also had a picture carved into it—a symbol.  When I picked up the stone, I was immediately transported to a beautiful countryside, standing in a meadow of tulips and roses, and a magnificent waterfall cascaded down a mountainside not far away.  The sun was making its morning ascent into the sky.  A cooling breeze swept through my hair—it was a far cry from my previous dream.  About twenty yards ahead of me stood a young couple holding hands.  Their backs were to me so I couldn't discern if I had known them before.  The young man had brown hair, was fairly built, and wore an outfit that looked like a pair of mages robes, but it was like none I'd ever seen before.  There was a great power about him, like a fantastic and impregnable aura.  He knelt down at what looked to be a single grave, and though I was quite a distance away, I could still hear him say, 'It's over now.  You can rest in peace.  I'll miss you.'  

            "That dream lasted about a week and that's when I started preparing for my journey here."

            Urbinus was dumbfounded.  What could he possibly make of the story his old friend was telling him—the word 'old' standing out with the possibility of age making Ghilwood jump off the sanity wagon and into senile swamp.  Urbinus sinks back into his chair, soaking up the information the Elder has laid in front of him before asking questions.

            "So what does it all mean?"  Urbinus has abandoned all hope of figuring it out on his own.

            "My dreams are actually visions—two of them—one good and one bad.  There's another war brewing Urbinus, a bigger, bloodier war.  The winged beasts in my first dream are positively dragons—a whole fleet of them, all kinds, and all very deadly.  The shadow of the man though is something slightly untouchable to me, something a little familiar and very disturbing.  I swear I've heard his voice somewhere before; I can sense it through the harsh and maniacal tone, but I dare not mention who I think it is.  I feel no good will come of it.  What I did feel however was someone made of pure evil, unlike anything this world's ever seen.  I only have a hunch as to what the larger, less tangible shadow is in the background and I've left a particular artifact with the other members of my church, which, by now, should have been passed on to the ones who will combat the evil ravaging our planet.

            "The second vision is the means to fighting this evil.  The stone, or rather the green orb within it, is the first part to the key of victory.  The other part, I believe, is the young man in meadow."

            "What in the world makes you believe that what you're saying is true?  I mean, I'm your friend Ghil, and I support whatever you do or say, but you have to admit that this story of yours is a little off the cliff eh?  Beyond the borders of reality or believability I would say."

            "I'm a man of faith my friend."

            "You're gonna pull that 'holy' shit on me eh?  Well I'll tell you this whole thing stinks of it if you ask me."

            "I wasn't wrong the last time."

            Urbinus scratches his head, now totally confused by Ghilwood's ramblings.

            "What do you mean, last time?"

            "I knew that Cecil Harvey would be the man to save the world from Zeromus.  I also knew that in order for him to succeed, he would need the help of the twins—Palom and Porom—who will play another major role in this war."

            "Bullshit."

            "No, no…I had the same type of visions back then as I do now.  Of course I can't see everything.  I never knew that Golbez was actually Cecil's brother, nor did I see the divine intervention of Master Fusoya.  Sometimes what I see in my visions may or may not come true depending on the decisions made by all the players.  I figured Cecil's best friend Kain would be the one to betray him, and in my visions Cecil actually kills Kain while trying to save Rosa who was his girlfriend at the time.  But as you may or may not know, Kain is alive and well and is now Captain of the Guards of Baron's military.  Yet for the most part it all played out just like I thought it would—just as my dreams predicted.  I've never told anyone about this, and the story in itself is pretty long and drawn out."

            "Like this story isn't?"  Urbinus quips.

            "Look at what happened seventeen years ago Urbinus.  Look at what transpired.  Evil sweeps across our lands in the form of Zeromus, while a lowly dark knight transforms into the paladin that fights evil in the end to save the world.  Cecil's change was not a coincidence.  For every evil in the world there is a good and vice versa.  That's how life is balanced out.  The place where Cecil morphed into a paladin, the room atop Mt. Ordeals, is the exact same place where this stone was born.  I sent the twins to go and retrieve it for me."

            "Did you tell them what it was for or how you knew it was up there in the first place?"

            "No.  The children always think I'm sending them off to train, to keep them on their toes, and that's just as well.  They'll know everything in time."

            Urbinus leans as far back in his chair as possible and lets out a very audible sigh—one of extreme burden.  He presses a large, sweaty hand to his temple and lets it slide over his balding head.  Just moments ago he was working on creating the largest broadsword anyone's ever seen.  It's something he's been working on for months, a sort of pet project.  Of course given its length and weight, he'd be the only one strong enough to use it, which was the purpose anyway.  Though at his age, whether he'd be able to wield it effectively was another thing.

            But now Ghilwood Llewelyn has shown up with some cockamamie story about good versus evil, dreams, and some dumb rock.  This from a man who he hasn't seen in over two decades, who seemingly abandoned their friendship for the life of prayer and worship and all that other 'holy shit'.

            "You know, I thought you just came here to say, 'Hi, I missed you Urbinus,' but no, you gotta lay this payload on me after all these years eh?"

            Ghilwood smiles at his old friend, knowing full well that there are really no hard feelings between them.

            "I told you I needed you Urbinus.  You too have a major role to play in all of this."

            "What do you need me to do?"  The blacksmith asks with a tired voice.

            The Elder reaches into the inside pocket of his tunic, and brings out a folded piece of paper from within.  He opens it and holds it up for Urbinus to examine.

            "And what is this I'm looking at Ghil?"

            "It's a sketch I did.  This is the symbol that was carved onto the rock in my dreams."

            Urbinus stares at the drawing for a few moments, then looks down at the metal orb sitting in the palm of his hand.  Then a realization occurs.  He looks back towards the piece of paper and nods in absentminded agreement.

            "Do you understand Urbinus?"

            "Yeah.  Yeah I think I do Ghil."

            "When can you get started?"

            "As soon as you hand me that piece of paper and I get the coals fired up in the back room."

            The Elder hands his friend the paper and Urbinus immediately stands up and heads for a door leading to another room to the north.  He halts at the open doorway and turns to look at Ghilwood who nods at him, as if answering a silent question.

            "It's going to take a while."  
            "You'll do fine Urbinus.  I knew I could count on you."

            Urbinus looks around at his surroundings in deep wonderment and thought.

            "Will we win this time?"

            A solemn frown creases the Elder's lips as he slowly shakes his head.

            "I don't know my friend.  I really do not know."

            With that, Urbinus heads to the back room to start work on the green orb.


End file.
